


Superman: The Man of Steel

by DC_Reimagined_Universe



Series: DC Reimagined Universe [1]
Category: DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Man of Steel, Superman - Freeform, Superman Origins, Superman: The Man of Steel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 93,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DC_Reimagined_Universe/pseuds/DC_Reimagined_Universe
Summary: Clark Kent is a normal boy with a normal life and goes to a normal school. One day, he learns that he's not as normal as he appears. He was born with powers that no one else has. He can fly, lift cars and is nighly invincible. As he moves to Metropolis, the City of Tomorrow, Clark must learn what it means to be a hero while a mysterious and ominous figure emerges on Earth...
Relationships: Clark Kent & Jonathan Kent, Clark Kent & Martha Kent, Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Jonathan "Pa" Kent/Martha Kent
Series: DC Reimagined Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804843
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The grand capital city of Kandor was welcomed by the bright crimson sun, Rao. It had been like any other normal day in the fair settlement. All was tranquil even throughout the planet’s surface that had been welcomed by its sweet, warm enrapture. There was little to no sound, save for the hovering vehicles that patrolled the city limits. The only other sounds were the indistinct voices of Kryptonians sharing several dialogues. Kandor’s citizens walked in a normal fashion with no worries. Husbands and wives of high and noble families walked together, embracing the blessed weather Rao had given them. Among the city grounds, held the planet’s oldest and most ancient architecture. Most of the ancient architecture that had stood for thousands of years remained in today’s customs of buildings for Houses as well as political structures that would secure the Council of Five within Kandor.

Kryptonians were usually to themselves, at least within their own planet outside of other worlds. Their insufferable pride had earned them xenophobia by other planets. It was a natural custom for Kryptonians to not speak of other races as equals, especially from noble Houses. Thousands of years ago, it was religiously forbidden for a Kryptonian to leave the planet on their own free will unless it was strictly for emergency circumstances. Though, several exceptions were made in the past centuries for the sake of scientific discovery as well as one primary purpose—enforcement.

Krypton’s military was heavily ambitious and their fleet, no doubt, was one of the largest empires in all of existence—at least that’s what they want to believe. It might’ve been true. To provide more durability for their military arsenal, many of the planet's kryptonite mines were harvested. Their minerals held a powerful electromagnetic vitality that many Kryptonian leaders took a liking to. They had to be careful, though. Some of the kryptonite crystals had several large amounts of energy that were too unstable to be even touched by an ordinary Kryptonian. The heavily radioactive ones were handled with care and then placed in military ships for weaponizing. Their military branch had fought in wars before and they proved their enemies that they were quite the formidable ones due to its then finest general—Lor-Zod. Even if the general’s dominions had aggressive measures, Lor had an impeccable knowledge of warfare and strategy under his command.

Other opposing races such as the blood-hungry Vrangs were no match for Lor’s tactics and bellicosity. After that bloody conflict, it encouraged Lor to begin conquests on other nearby planets. Other planets resisted but found themselves outnumbered and outgunned. Soon enough, Krypton turned into a large empire—that is until the Kryptonian Lawmakers deemed this aspiration to be too hostile. It also didn't sit too well with other outer galactic law enforcers . . .

The acquisitions ended, and Krypton turned to isolationism. Space travel was becoming less common; thus, Krypton was forced to focus on their own resources rather than aggressive expansion. This kind of dispute carried through the many following generations of the House of Zod, who’d rather see their growing empire reestablished, but the Lawmakers believed it for the best of the planet, otherwise extinction was inevitable.

Prior to the days of their technological development, the planet was heavily polluted. Diseases plagued them and their life spans plummeted.

However, it had become a true blessing in disguise.

Regardless of their setbacks, there was one big bright side. The kryptonite crystals were commonly utilized for materials for vessels and buildings while their cores were extracted for energy production. The industry for kryptonite increased, and Krypton achieved tremendous greatness in science and technology. More possibilities boomed. Diseases were conquered, their military never lost its stability, and space travel became less common except for cases of emergency.

Way before the beginning of Krypton’s otherworldly conquest, the House of El made a prosperous benefit for the planet's research and renewable resources. Thanks to the famous astronomer, Sul-El, the planet also made substantial modifications to their space exploration and travel. A statue of him was dedicated in his honor and continued to be held in later generations of the House of El.

Of all the Houses of Krypton, the House of El was one of the most noble and ancient families. Its bloodline reached back as far as even before the industrial age of Krypton and further than its conquering era. The House of El’s reputation as been held in high regard as it has served the planet’s best interest and helped the Lawmakers establish a moral and just culture. The family never boasted their accomplishment and other Houses have had immense respect for its graciousness throughout the thousands of years of its existence, including the House of Zod to some degree.

The current husband and head of the household, Jor-El, had carried on that undying legacy of faithfulness, honoring his ancestor’s accomplishments throughout the millennia as well as making his own. His loving wife, Lara Lor-Van, despite her limited role in their own society in only being a wife, had been given much admiration as her husband. Lara had not been shunned by Lawmakers as she had resumed the House’s loyal inheritance. As Jor would aid the Lawmakers, she would offer other equitable decisions for her husband. Her dutiful fidelity to her husband was as equal to her views on the House itself let alone Krypton.

The House of El had also been the center of gossip and discussion alike. Krypton’s views on other known species that have existed in the galaxy weren’t pacific. They had firmly believed that only a Kryptonian can rule Krypton, let alone live within it. Jor and Lara were known to have disagreed with that. Their mentality is that they believed that a man or woman of any planet can be equals should they both have the will to compromise with one another. This had caused some controversy among the relations with other Houses as well as Lawmakers, but they wouldn’t deny that their views and ideologies have benefitted them for so many years; Jor’s occupation with the Science Council has also served the planet for centuries, dating back to his ancestors. It would've been such a mistake to disown them.

Regarding the House of El, there had been one general discussion that grew more recently because of their biggest announcement—Lara had been with child for several months. Another member of the House of El had been blessed by Rao. The child had been identified as a boy, and it would be named “Kal” after one of the many ancestors before him. This has been the most talked about subject matter concerning the House of El for quite some time. The questions have swarmed Jor and Lara about the arrival of their child, who would be the next heir to uphold the venerated legacy. Whenever anyone else had asked about the House of El’s child, or more specifically when it will arrive, the answer had always been the same: “soon” had seemed like a lifetime for many. For the House of El, it had been a standard expectation in time just like any other pregnancy.

Only recently, did everyone receive news that the child would arrive within a week’s time. This evening would be the evening that the child would be born. That, of course, just so happened to be a week ago, much to everyone’s delight. In traditional conditions, the child would be born within the confines of its respective House. Of course, the necessary medical instruments would be around and provided to care for the child’s afterbirth. Jor already prepared for that long before this day as well did Lara. Together, they had rearranged one of their larger rooms in preparation for their child’s arrival. The medical supplies would be held on the side as Lara would life herself onto a large and soft bed within the middle of the room as Jor would hold her for support throughout the process as well as checking the child’s progress via monitor screen. Naturally, the father of the child had been taught numerous times for child delivery procedures. Currently, Jor had been much more than confident. He and Lara had spent that oncoming day in the room they had prepared for and waited. The wait was torture. It was fortunate that Lara had her husband by her side, otherwise she would’ve gone mad as she would’ve dreaded.

Jor approached his wife, who was wearing a calm expression, but he saw through enough that she was waiting. She was staring up at the ceiling without focus as in deep in pensiveness.

“We’ve been told it would’ve been earlier today,” she uttered, not taking her eyes off into the space above.

“We’ve been told many things,” Jor assured. “Their predictions can only go so far. The beginning of all life is ambiguous.

Lara breathed in and out of her nose and then finally faced her husband, her face now more warm than blank. “Is this the common word of a man, or a scientist?”

Her flirtatious question made Jor smirk. Two could play at this. “Are you saying I’m not a man?”

Lara pursed her lips, shaking her head while keeping her playful smug smile. “I’ve refused many suitors. Boys. Only to find a . . . much bigger boy.”

Jor joined his wife’s laughter. His tone then turned to more sincere. “A boy loves a woman for his value. A man loves a woman for her value.”

Lara gently smiled after hearing more of his graciousness. Never in her life would she ever think that she would find a man in a high noble House as well as having an unshakable sense of decency. Indeed, her father pressed her to find a suitor, but none of them matched Jor-El’s kindness that seemed to have been a fable within their lifetime until now.

“And what of you as a scientist?” she asked as if expecting an answer that he would hold dearly.

Jor smirked. “A scientist values . . .,” he traced his hand and placed it softly on his wife’s stomach, budging from the life within. “. . . what’s on the inside.”

Lara smiled softly. Good enough answer.

Jor planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ve dreamed of this for a long time.”

Lara’s response was a soothing gaze into the eyes of the man she loved for so long. “Our Houses would damn us if they see us now,” she said almost as if mischievous.

“Our Houses were long damned,” Jor came back. He knew better than to say such things to their Houses, as they did hold significance. However, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Her House didn’t take kindly to the House of El, but they’d agreed that their children would make excellent parents for the husband’s El legacy. If the House of El was to continue, then a child yet to be born was enough to satisfy many others.

Night eventually fell upon the city of Kandor. All had been tranquil and quiet, that is except for where Jor and Lara resided. It was at that time when the pain would begin. Jor shifted his eyes from his wife to her bulging middle, hoping all would go well for their son. Lara’s forehead stifled and began leaking perspiration as she gasped rapidly. She cried out clenching her teeth, in the desperate aspirations that it would be less unbearable.

Jor had checked the monitor and saw that the walls surrounding the baby within her were beginning to stir and writhe. The child had also begun to move erratically. Lara had laid herself in the middle of the room onto a piece of large and soft furniture twice her size. She had placed herself against the edge on one side to give enough space where her legs would meet.

Soon, the pain arose forcing Lara’s mouth open in an agonizing yell. With his heart racing, Jor shot a look at the monitor and the baby made a faint jolt as its mother made an abrupt movement.

Lara cried out again. This time, it hurt even more even with the support she was given by Jor, who stood beside her with his hand firmly held by hers, hoping to ease the pain. The anguish was growing by the second. Soon, it would be over.

Another cry. The louder cry fastened Jor’s breathing. All he could do was watch his wife wail in pain. Jor looked over at the monitor that displayed the faint image of an infant within his wife’s now erratic womb. His wild eyes alternated aggressively from the monitor and his pained lover. He couldn’t bear to see her in this amount of pain despite how normal it was.

“Almost there,” he assured her closely.

Taking a break from the pressure in her abdomen, Lara let out quick hiccupping gasps followed by staccato paced cries. Then another cry. This one was louder and longer. He had hoped that this would be the end of having to worry about his wife who had spent many nights making sure that she had a sustainable body for nourishment.

After a period of time that seemed like an eternity, the pain was beginning to subside. Lara’s cries turned to gasps as the cry of a baby began to take over.

As his eyes lightened at the sight of his newborn son, the man held the baby that had emerged and cradled it into his own arms. After catching her breath and fighting the exhaustion, Lara, looked up to see her son held in her husband’s arms. Jor holding the baby smiled and looked back at Lara. She forced a joyful laugh as their son had been welcomed into their world. Jor approached his tired wife and joined her, allowing her to hold onto their child. He leaned his head onto Lara’s perspiring forehead and laid a tender kiss. While she felt the warmth of his touch, she couldn’t help but stare at their new love. 

Jor leaned then turned his attention to his newborn son, who had started calming down from his first outcry into the new world. “Kal,” Jor spoke unable to contain his happiness. “Welcome to the House of El.”


	2. Chapter 2

ONE WEEK LATER

Kal’s birth had created a new habit for the House of El. Every day during the course of the week, the baby needed tending. Lara never imagined how demanding how she would have to breastfeed their child while Jor would make sure his own priorities of the Science Council was just as vital. Lara, with her limited status, watched over their son and barely left his side.

When Lara went outside of her home, she would be congratulated on her son as much as Jor was whenever he was founded by friends out in public.

Today, things were different. The city of Kandor had been welcomed with a new day like any other. Its citizens had been walking around like usual, but there was one thing amiss.

They had all stopped in their tracks when their eyes looked up in the sky. From every street and every market and every building with a window, people joined and looked upward with their mouths falling open. Among the onlookers, several were fascinated by the strange appearance while others were much more alarmed. Some were so frightened, they started scuttling away from it on the pretense of hostile intention.

It was strange but most unexpected. Krypton has had several visitors from other worlds, and they weren’t naturally seen with equal eyes. Despite the unnerving prejudice, it was still welcome.

For today, it was most unnatural. A massive ship had appeared in the sky, just right next to the sun over Kandor, but far away enough to not create an eclipse. It hadn’t penetrated through the planet’s atmosphere and the clouds were slightly blocking its view, but it was clear enough to make out its features. The design of this ship had seemed extremely different from any other visitor they’ve ever had. It didn’t have the same design as a Daxemite or Czarnian ship. The large ship’s front had two large inward-like dents as if it looked like eye sockets. Underneath the two “eyes” was a massive opening that contained a void. What was inside this opening was unclear, but the ship seemed to be resembling a skull. Its underside had long and angular claw-like structures that pointed downward. It almost seemed as if the beams under it were some sort of claw-like figures, acting like they were meant to obtain or extract something.

* * *

The Kryptonian Science Council had been called into their chambers ever since detection. All members had assembled in their designated seats around the massive round table where they would all face each other in their decision-making processes. In front of each of them were consoles and other interfaces that were accustomed to their priorities. The middle of the table displayed a holographic image of the skull-shaped ship, giving off a blue aura in an otherwise darkened room.

Based on the interface's readings, the Kryptonian texts calculated the distance between the ships and the planet's atmosphere.

According to the numbers, the ship had been slowing down for some time now. Several seconds passed, and the numbers steadily came to a halt. The ship was now dead still, holding its position outside of Krypton.

At the head of the table, Vond-Ah, a beautiful middle-aged woman who had been the head of the entire Science Council for many years grimaced further. The numbers hadn’t changed for the past sixty-second interval.

“Any more readings?” she asked.

“No, milady,” councilwoman Mar-Ya answered.

“Is there anything we could find from this ship?” Vond then asked looking out at her colleagues.

“Communications with the ship remain useless,” Mar-Ya replied while toggling on her console. “All frequencies have been silent. We’ve even tried reaching out with numerous alien codes, but none were responsive.”

“What of its structure?” Vond asked.

“Its structure,” said councilman Dur-Kin, “is only made up of a certain mass we are unable to calculate. We’ve been getting several readings of large amounts of energy within the core of the ship. From what we’ve been reading, the kind of energy has photonic signatures that would be as powerful as our planet’s core.”

The other councilmen began murmuring their concerns whilst exchanging glances. In their years, that was something that would never be even seen or heard. In their years of research, they deemed that it would probably be impossible until now.

“And what of our probes that we’ve sent?” Vond asked, trying to maintain her tone of order. “Anything from them?”

“The probes were destroyed,” said councilman Wri-Qin looking more worried than the rest of his colleagues. “Only they weren’t shot, milady. From Dur’s calculation, our scout ships and probes were destroyed after receiving a certain signal.” He hesitated, allowing a swallow. “Almost as if they were hijacked and programmed to self-destruct.”

This assessment aroused more murmuring.

Vond gave a slight exhale, worrying that her fear was showing. “Have we come to any evidence that would suggest that this is an invasion or visitation?” she asked out loud.

“No, milady,” Jor-El said. “With no communications and no known lifeforms of any kind coming from this ship, we have no way of knowing. These energy signatures on a scale this massive, this isn’t something we’ve ever seen before.”

He took a deep breath. “I fear that we have to suggest of mobilizing our military forces.”

His fellow Kryptonians’ eyes widened to certain degrees. No sound was made, but Jor could sense the tension coming from his fellow council’s faces.

Vond’s face tightened. “You realize, Jor-El,” she said softly, “that this will mean that this course of action will have to be passed through the Council of Five. Only then will they be able to utilize General Zod for planetary defense.”

“The probes were destroyed, milady,” Wri said, agreeing with Jor. “If this is a visitation, they would have no reason to merely destroy a nonaggressive measure.”

“We may not have a choice, milady,” Jor added. “We don’t know if this ship has hostile intention, but should it prove to be belligerent, and we are unprepared, then we will have no shield against an invasion. We will not attack first, because we are not aggressors like in our days’ past. Therefore, we only mobilize our forces for any incoming attack. If they strike, we will respond accordingly.”

“I concur with Jor,” Wri said.

“This ship has a massive energy signature on the inside,” Dur argued. “That kind of firepower could wipe out an entire city if it wanted to. I say we take this to Fort Rozz and have General Zod decide our best course of action.

“This ship hasn’t proven to be hostile,” Jor stood his ground.

“Not _yet,”_ Dur said. “Even our weaponry—even in our own _history_ —never had this kind of energy.”

“That ideology has been outlawed, Dur,” Mar joined. “Jor is right. We need to take the necessary measures to ensure this isn’t a threat.”

More councilmen piled on their cases. Vond’s eyes darted from her council and back to the projection of the ship. The readings on the ship bore no difference. Nothing was getting done with their dispute. She softly huffed through her nose as she pondered.

“Council,” she finally exclaimed.

The table fell silent.

“I fear invasion as much as you do, Jor,” Vond said quietly turning her head, “but consider the risks of running this with the Council of Five. They may support your input as much as you support their politics, but this is a bold request.”

A dead silent chill filled the room at the mention of the Council of Five.

Jor sensed the exact sensation. He then said, “I have. And I say this with utmost importance—the Lawmakers need to know. Forgive my bluntness, milady, but if there is absolutely nothing we can do to make any kind of contact with this ship, then we are wasting time.”

Vond’s eyes shifted downward as her face turned pensive. She admired Jor’s judgement for the longest time, and it was morbidly shocking that it had to be decided to seek the help of the Kryptonian Council of Five, who were the only ones to carry out this request.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Vond said, “Very well. We’re forced to make a choice. Inform the Council of this at once, Jor. Let them know that there was absolutely no way to connect, and hostile intention may be imminent.”

Jor bowed and left the room.

* * *

Picking up the pace in his walking, Jor had straightened out his uniform, navigating himself through the long corridors that belonged to the Lawmakers for an interminable amount of years. Soon, enough, he approached the doors to the council room. He began to breathe harder even though he knew of the Lawmakers’ confidence and support of his reports throughout his experience of his research. The council had grown to trust the House of El for many generations, and this was a time more than ever for his advice to be heeded.

Jor still couldn’t believe that his ship was never found in their large archive searches. Surely, they would have known every single vehicle that existed since the discontinuation of their long-gone empire. Then again, there were many more planets that had yet to be explored. The unknown was frightening and if there was even the slightest chance that it could be unfriendly, they had to be prepared for the worst. The House of El had long resented xenophobic principles, but this had never been seen before.

Something had to be done.

Without much of a thought, he had pressed his hands on the double-doors to the council room and forced it open without trying to make an abrupt sound, aware of never interrupting the Lawmakers’ debates. The Council was dignified in that intrusions was extremely frowned upon. Nothing was to disrupt a discussion between the councilmen in usual Kryptonian customs.

Jor looked and saw that the Council of Five was in their respective chairs that had formed an arch on the opposite side of the large decorative and ancient room. The five Kryptonian lawmakers had a look of subtle surprise when they saw that their doors have been unexpectedly opened. As they understood that it was Jor, they turned from surprise to curiosity. It was intriguing to see a long-trusted man who knew better than to barge into the room without warning to do exactly that.

“Councilmen,” Jor spoke with a hint of agitation, trying his best to keep within the customs.

“Jor-El,” Ro-Zar, the councilwoman in the middle of the room, answered astonishingly and with feigned since of impression. Has Jor forgotten his place? “Your sense of our customs seems to have degraded.”

“Forgive me, Your Eminence,” Jor said almost interrupting her.

“What has your team discovered about this unauthorized vessel?” Ro asked.

“I’m afraid nothing, Your Eminence,” Jor answered. “All we’ve been able to read about it is that there is a large energy signature. Its readings match about as much as the destructive capabilities of highly radioactive kryptonite. All of this has been detected from the ship’s core. Our telecommunicators are apparently unable to reach any kind of contact with it. The material is some sort of strong metal that may or may not be impenetrable.”

The mentioning of the word ‘impenetrable’ made Ro’s eyebrows rise. “You sound as if you plan to attack it, Jor,” she cautioned.

“Your Eminence, if you may indulge me,” Jor said carefully, “we may believe it has hostile intent.”

He couldn’t quite catch what they were saying, but Jor could detect the tension rising from all occupants in the room.

“Hostile?” Ro asked.

Jor continued. “The ship is docked just right outside our atmosphere and has remained in the same position for quite some time. Any attempt to establish communication with this ship has failed.

“What of the scout probes?” Ro asked.

“They were destroyed,” Jor said grimly.

“Were they shot down?”

“No, Your Eminence. They self-destructed. We believe that the ship had lodged some sort of defensive code within the probes. We’ve tried running diagnostics before they exploded, but it was under a code that we’ve never read before.”

Ro’s mouth gaped for a brief period. “What of communications with this ship?”

“We can’t make contact with it for any kind of negotiation and our own encoders can’t even decipher its data. Not even Vond-Ah. This is unlike any other vessel we’ve encountered.”

Ro looked to her other councilmen with worried looks as they also reciprocated. “There is absolutely nothing we can do to know more about this ship?” Ro asked with a concluding tone.

“No,” Jor said quickly. “As said, nothing is known of his ship. Councilmen,” he said before taking a deep breath, he gathered the confidence to say his next sentence, “we may have to mobilize our entire military force.”

Ro’s lips notably parted as her eyes lit up at the mention of all Kryptonian military forces. Moving them around at this time with such a small window would be near impossible. “Are you not aware, Jor, that this is an extremely serious suggestion to have our entire military to be used on such short notice?” she advised.

“I understand, Your Eminence,” Jor said ignoring the inevitable questioning of this decision, “but I have spoken with General Zod. He has agreed to take immediate action should the outside vessel show hostile action against our planet.”

“Are you suggesting that we attack this vessel with our full force?” Councilman Lor-Em asked incredulously. “You and your team can’t uncover what this ship is made of, where it’s from, or why it’s here, and now, you wish to have our entire military force to assemble? That would take such a long time to even run through our protocols.”

“I am not intimating that we attack this ship, Councilman,” Jor tried to answer calmly to appease his superiors. “I am suggesting that we have our military on standby should they prove to be hostile,” Jor assured looking over to Lor. “In the meantime, we are still trying to discover anything we can find on this ship. Vond-Ah is still trying to establish communication with it as we speak.”

“You realize, El,” Lor spoke eagerly to change Jor’s mind, “that this would mean a potential threat on a worldwide scale.”

“I pray to Rao that such an event will never happen,” Jor answered. “But you all know me to neither be rash or impulsive. My actions in the past have proven worthy and I have put my faith and trust in what we do to ensure our survival. Hear me, my friends,” Jor said as he began to eye all other councilmen. “If we don’t take action and prepare ourselves against an unknown, I fear something worse may happen, given our condition.”

Ro-Zar looked over to her other councilmen. Lor-Em looked skeptical and had his lips nearly tucked in trying to contain his impatience with this reckless suggestion. Jor had looked deeply into the eyes of the councilmen, hoping that a decision would be taken. He had thought about his newborn son, Kal as well as his loving wife, Lara Lor-Van. He thought about what would’ve happened to them if there was any kind of danger to them. How unbearable it would’ve been to lose his wife and firstborn son after only a week of having a family. The more he thought, the more exasperated he was becoming with the Council of Five’s pensiveness.

A large bang rang through the chamber that startled all occupants. Startled, Jor spun himself around to face the entrance to the chamber. The doors to the chamber were ripped from their original point and were sent flying off from where they once stood, guarding the lawmakers of Krypton. A large ball of smoke hazed where the doors were as the councilmen and Jor looked at the threshold of the chamber. Jor shielded his face with his arms from potential debris of the sudden assail. As he lowered his arms, the councilmen brazenly leaned out of their chairs and looked ahead with their mouths hanging open. Had the ship already begun to attack as Jor-El warned?

Jor squinted, adjusting his vision into the smokescreen, hoping to see the source of this commotion. His heart raced as panic coursed through his veins, hoping that this was not the hostile action that he had feared, and he had been too late.

He looked and behind the flowing smog, saw a shadowy figure forming itself into existence. It gradually faded into place and got darker until it appeared beyond the dispelling smoke. A man carrying a large firearm had emerged into the chamber, just a few meters away from Jor, whose eyes had widened in disbelief and horror.

“General! What are you doing?” Jor demanded.

“Consider your suggestions approved, Jor,” General Dru-Zod said with utmost confidence, aiming his weapon past Jor and up towards Ro, who could only stare at Fort Rozz’s most trusted military leader.

As Zod steadied his aim, more Kryptonian soldiers entered the chamber, passing the now nearly gone smoke. Jor counted at least five more. He had only recognized them as Dru’s soldiers from several of the units he commanded. Each of them was holding the same firearm as Zod was carrying, all aiming their weapons at the councilmen.

Lor-Em looked at the soldiers in horror. “General!” he yelled in commanding authority. “You will stand down now—!”

Zod fired his weapon at Lor’s direction. Jor flinched as he witnessed Lor’s face turn from angry to shock. The blast hit him in the chest, and Lor’s face had vanished forever as death bent his body over from where he was sitting.

“By Rao!” Ro had bellowed in the chamber, “What is the meaning of this, Dru?”

“This council has been officially disbanded,” Zod announced.

“Zod!” Jor said, his eyes wild in confusion, “a possible danger looms outside our world and you attack your own superiors?”

“For the longest time, Jor,” Zod said no-nonsensically, “the dangers have been our own lawmakers.” He glanced over to the councilmen and scoffed. “These endless debates. They squabble and continue to hold their ground, yet you still support them.”

“And now you take matters into your own hands? Abandon your loyalty?” Jor exclaimed.

“You said so yourself,” Zod snapped, “if we do not act, our planet is doomed.”

As Ro sat in her chair, trying her best not to move, moved her hand from where it lied on the armrest. Silently thanking that only councilmen know of the private security system hidden within the chamber, she had begun to place her hand underneath the armrest, hoping to reach for the button that would activate it. Stall him, she thought to herself.

“What exactly do you plan on doing, General?” Ro demanded.

“It’s simple,” Zod answered, “you and your councilmen will stand down from any decision-making processes. You will then relinquish yourselves to the Hand of Rao. If you resist, you will be killed. Therefore, we will mobilize our military forces as Jor-El has offered.”

“The Hand of Rao?” Jor repeated incredulously as he squinted, his eyes narrowing to a state of anger.

“You see, Jor,” Zod spoke smoothly, “unlike you and me, the Lawmakers have done nothing to ensure our security, as I’ve said to you. Sometimes, security needs to speak past its own makers in order to maintain prosperity.”

Jor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A friend adopting madness at a time of crisis. “We are better than this,” he said darkly.

“I agree,” Zod said, raising his eyebrows staying confident, “we are. _We_ are better than them, Jor,” he said, gesturing his head at the Council of Five. “A hostile enemy hovers among us, threaten our homes, and they cower in their chairs. And why did you come here? Because you knew. You knew they wouldn’t have the indulgence to do what is necessary.” Zod’s tone to more intuitive. “So, do what is necessary, Jor. Join me and let us liberate us our planet from this ineptitude.”

Jor glared his longtime friend in the eye and gradually stepped towards him just so his loyal followers wouldn’t open fire on him. “And what happens when those who decide otherwise defy?” he queried coldly, his eyes intensely concentrated on Zod, who stared back at Jor with what seemed like a small smug smirk.

“My ancestors have long stood for the purpose of structuring our military to its fullest potential. Today will mark when the pride of the House of Zod will be reestablished, along with the strength of conquest.”

“You are speaking of a coup, General,” Ro warned as her hand just about reached the button. She managed to keep her persona normal and scowled.

“A coup?” Zod scowled in an almost mocking curiosity. “Then answer me this, your Eminence: if given the choice between death and prosperity, what shall it be?

“Tread carefully.”

“This is not a grab for power, Your Eminence,” Zod answered sincerely, “this is about our own survival.”

A cold relief engulfed Ro as her finger found the button. Swallowing, praying that no one was about to see her actions, she pressed the button.

“Now, Ro-Zar, High Eminence of the Council of Law,” Zod said, raising his weapon to Ro’s head and spoke slowly, “stand down.”

Ro then looked at Jor, who was subtly shaking his head, trying to encourage her not to. To herself, she had agreed with Jor. She had been leader of the Council of Law for many years, and to abandon her position to rogue fanatics would be an embarrassment. A revolution would be devastating, especially at a time like this.

Before Ro could answer, a faint rumbling started to echo across the room. It started with a creeping approach of ambiance. Seconds followed, and the rumbling turned louder, soon vibrating the room. Ro’s eyes stared upward from where she was sitting, with every muscle in her body bracing herself for what was coming. She then looked over to Zod, who strangely enough had the same expression. He, too, had his eyes wandering around along with the rest of his accomplices. Jor looked up, joining the others.

“General, have they truly begun their attack?” Jor asked eagerly.

Zod quickly spoke into his wrist communicator, “Vand-Ah, report!”

The voice that followed was filled with panic and terror. “General! The ship has launched hundreds of fighters! They’ve begun their assault on Kandor sir! We need reinforcements now! I repeat, we need reinforcements now!”

“You see!” Zod announced in a mocking proudness. His tone then turned to anger. “They attack while you sit here hiding behind the laws that have set us back for so long! If our once strong and glorious empire was still here, that ship wouldn’t be here.”

The feeling of panic once again found its way into Jor’s heart. He had remembered the urgency of how much his family had meant to him. He thought about Lara and had wondered if she was witnessing what was happening outside their home, which was near the Kandor capital city. He had to get home. He had to make sure they were safe. If there was the slightest chance that he and his wife could get activate an escape shuttle and launch themselves away from the danger, it would also mean that their beloved planet would be left behind.

Jor’s thoughts had been interrupted as a faint high-pitched noise was starting to rise. He looked up and could sense that something strong and fast was falling.

“Incoming!” Jor yelled as he dove out of the way with his arms outward for support onto the cold hard floor.

A massive crash penetrated through the ceiling of the chambers as the councilmen finally were startled out of their chairs. Zod winced and his eyes grew wild and horrified. The falling chunks of Kryptonian architecture fell to the floor, but something else was descending, albeit a slower pace. It was as if it was willingly lowering itself.

It was a large creature.

The creature lowered itself until it came to a slow and smooth landing making a slight tap on the floor. It had the structure and physique of a man, only it wasn’t. It looked more skeletal than any other sentient being of Kryptonian nature. It was all armored and had no emotional face. Its face was lifeless except that it had two glowing menacing eyes from its sockets. The creature stood tall and a purple aura was seemingly glowing inside as if something was generating within.

“Open fire!” Zod commanded his soldiers.

The soldiers obeyed and fired their weapons at the attacker, creating a commotion of heated fire blasts. The soldiers’ weapons, however, only grazed the shining impenetrable armor of the creature. The creature had not taken any force from the impact of Zod’s fire. It only stared at one of Zod’s soldiers and walked slowly towards him. Zod’s soldiers continued firing in the desperate wishing that it would soon be destroyed if they had attacked it hard enough. The metal creature then stopped abruptly in front of the soldier it was staring at and suddenly raised its iron palm, facing him. No more than a second later, a long whip shot from the palm and permeated through the soldier’s head with a squelching splat.

Jor and the councilmen gasped in unison at the sudden execution in the Lawmakers’ Chambers. The whip then immediately retracted back into the creature’s palm as the soldier’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor with his firearm clattering out of this grasp.

“Retreat! Retreat!” Zod yelled as he and the other soldiers began to back away from the creature and out of the chambers. They resumed their firing and made no progress on the diamond-hard skin of the creature. The creature slowly began to follow Zod and his soldiers outside of the chamber room. What was left of the ancient Lawmaker Chambers was a heavily damaged ceiling along with the petrified councilmen who had longed upheld the laws of the planet.

Taking the moment, Jor headed for Ro-Zar, who stood back along with the other councilmen.

“We’ll deal with General Zod later, milady,” Jor said fast. “Right now, we have to fight off the invaders.”

“I’ve called in security forces,” Ro responded panting trying to understand more of the current state.

Jor’s eyebrows rose. “Do they not know of the current invasion, milady?”

“Zod will be dealt with, Jor!” Ro raised her voice. Time was too precious to be spared on rebels. “We need to seek cover and protect the capital city. We will mobilize the full capacity against these invaders as requested. Get out of the capital while you still can, Jor.”

“Your safety, Your Eminence!” Jor insisted.

“Kandor’s safety, let alone Krypton’s, is the priority, Jor! Leave!” Ro yelled. “Our lives aren’t the greatest concern now.”

Jor hesitated. He had admired how the Council of Five was known for their bravery even in times before this era. Even those in ancient times had dealt with several rebellions and spontaneous revolutions in the past. Every rebellion had the same excuse—for the greater good, survival over reason; they never had their way in the courts of justice. The revelation that Dru-Zod would turn out to be one of those fanatics willing to take down a government because of a disagreement was insane. Even it had involved a matter of life and death.

His thoughts moved onto his now only priority—Lara.

* * *

Lara Lor-Van looked outside from the tower window as she was holding baby Kal-El closer and tighter, shielding him from what she was witnessing. Distancing herself away from the window, she watched thousands of metallic-looking creatures swarming from the large black vessel that had hovered outside of the planet’s atmosphere, coating it in the sky’s sunset bright vermilion color. Soon, the miscellaneous sounds echoed. She winced as the sounds of screams and explosions rang through the once quiet capital city and swallowed in her fear. Soon enough, the inviting color of sunset turned dull and cloudy as the smoke from the devastation the invaders were leaving in their wake began to rise.

She held Kal closer towards and leaned on his soft forehead and let out an exasperated sigh of dread, thinking of her husband, who had gone on to the Lawmaker’s Chambers. She had wondered if his request had been approved before the invaders started their attack. If he had been gone this long, she could only conclude the much dreaded inevitable.

The sounds wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Kelex,” Lara said aloud for the room’s A.I., “activate defensive systems.”

“Command overridden,” the monotone male voice said.

“What?” Lara quietly exclaimed in fear.

“Defensive systems have been deactivated.”

“On whose authority?” Lara demanded, her heart racing more by the second.

“Jor-El, your husband, milady.”

At the mention of this, Lara turned one hundred and eighty degrees to the only door to the room to where she and her child were.

The door had opened, and a panting Jor-El had been standing. From Lara could tell by his appearance, he hadn’t been injured by the invaders. There was no sign of blood on his uniform, but he had been out of breath while his forehead was drenched in perspiration. He approached her delicately so the baby would be fine between their embrace.

“What is going on?” Lara asked. “Is the Council alright?”

“For now, I believe” Jor panted. “The vessel attacked the Council without warning,” he continued.

“By Rao!” Lara whispered.

Jor ducked his head downward, his eyes swiveling as if trying to put something together.

Lara had noticed. “What is it?”

“General Zod,” Jor answered, lost in thought as he was when he saw him in the chambers. “He’s gone rogue, Lara.”

Lara shook her head drawing her brows. “I don’t understand.”

“General Zod had tried to stage a revolution and dethrone the Council.”

Lara’s mouth opened agape, unbelieving what her husband was saying. Zod had been a long trusting man. For the longest time, he and her husband had been companions for many years, despite their different ancestral choices.

“He’s gone mad, Lara,” Jor tried to explain. “He . . . he’s slain Lor-Em.”

Lara’s face further widened into shock. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” Jor answered hanging his head still trying to piece together everything that has happened in the short amount of time between earlier and now.

Jor then turned to face his wife, “Lara. We’ve got to get to the emergency shuttles.”

“Emergency shuttles?” Lara repeated. “Can’t we fight them off? Did the Council agree to your proposal?”

“Zod couldn’t even destroy one of them while he and others opened fire on it,” Jor responded. “If there’s even a chance that . . .” his sentence lagged at the morbid thought, “. . . that Krypton might not survive . . . Lara, we’ve got to get to an emergency shuttle. Gather all of Kelex’s databanks. We’ll also need all the supplies we’ll need,” he said, turning his head towards other rooms, where their belongings were placed. “Get Kal in the matrix orb so he’ll be shielded. Hurry.”

“Are we actually abandoning our planet?” Lara asked gravely, making sure she was hearing him correctly. There was no way this could be a mistake. By her knowledge of her husband, Jor wouldn’t make a drastic decision if there was no other option.

“We don’t have a choice,” Jor answered fighting the morbid realization of his tender.

“Your brother,” Lara worried.

“Inform him,” Jor answered almost immediately. “Tell him and his House to get to the nearest emergency shuttle stations as soon as possible.”

Kal was placed on the soft surface of nearby furniture as the two scurried around their household to find whatever they could to place their belongings. In a blur of post-haste movement, Jor and Lara grabbed some of their artifacts, treasures as well as several uniforms. For uniforms, it was two white robes as well as one that was differently colored.

Once they had everything that Kryptonian refugees would customarily need when reaching to a foreign planet, Lara grabbed the matrix orb that was placed in the nursery for young Kal. With frantic but gentle hands, Lara placed their child within the opaque glass bubble, designed to keep any inside contents from harm. The matrix orb for Kal would be the perfect protection against any kind of radioactive diseases as well as blunt trauma. As she was thankful for that invention, she feared that the firepower of these metallic creatures would be able to permeate through it.

Jor peeked at the doorway to the nursery and carried the case of their belongings. He noticed that Kal was in the orb. “Let's go, Lara,” he said.

Lara did not hesitate to join her husband and they left their household without looking back. Neither spared a lament of leaving their beloved homestead.

Once they reached the outside, the screams and explosions’ volume erupted in their ears. It propelled them expediently to get themselves behind something where they would be hidden from any invaders’ sight.

As Jor and Lara reached a corner of a building, Jor rested the case. He peeked his head behind the corner and scrutinized the area and looked up. Amidst the fighting in the sky above with Kryptonian warships battling through the hordes of metallic invaders, he and Lara had kept themselves hidden. Even in the warzone, Lara was able to keep up with her husband while holding Kal within the matrix orb. She looked around and saw that there were no other Kryptonians nearby. They were either hiding, out fighting, or worse. . . Lara made no attempt to even try to consider the potential grim possibility of the fate of close friends of the House of El. Her family was now the main concern.

“Come on,” Jor said as he saw that nothing was near where they were. “We’re only half a mile away from the nearest shuttle post.”

Lara followed as they continued to find more and more haunting displays of corpses of soldiers or civilians who were unfortunate enough to cross paths with the metal invaders. Much to Jor’s surprise there were several soldiers, who were lucky enough to take down an invader or two before they were savagely slain.

During their urgent detours avoiding open areas that would give the invaders a chance to swoop and strike them, they would occasionally catch a glimpse of the escalating violence in their once tranquil capital. The distant screams of civilians and soldiers alike sent deathly chills through Jor and Lara as they couldn’t bear to find the sources of the blood-curdling shrieks followed by quietness. Jor and Lara witnessed one of the invaders murder a soldier who had warned them to get out of the city. His caveats were interrupted immediately with a silver whip that penetrated through the armor and into his skull, dropping him instantly to the ground with a firearm in hand. Lara let out a yelp as she saw death take someone ever so sporadically. Jor quickly grabbed the firearm with his free hand. Even if there was no chance of stopping the invaders with this kind of weapon like he had witnessed from earlier, he’d want to die protecting his family and not just flee.

Jor and Lara crouched and hid behind a large chunk of an iron structure that once belonged to a large statue within the capital city. Once more, Jor peeked his head out from behind and caught sight of the shuttle compound, which was only from a hundred yards away now. Thanking Rao, he saw that the compound wasn’t too obscure from the chaos, but he had mentally prepared himself for inevitable latent ambushes.

Gripping the firearm tightly until he felt his knuckles grow sore, Jor faced his wife. “Ready?”

Lara nodded as she also tightened her precious cargo.

Jor looked ahead and saw the compound once more. He felt his entire body freeze in a cold sweat and took several deep breaths. It was now or never as the invaders would be sure to attack it as well, let alone them all.

Praying to Rao, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Go!” he cried.

The two ran for their lives in the fastest way their legs could carry them. Almost immediately, they felt the muscles in their legs screaming at them, but their fears egged them on. They refused to look up as they sprinted. The shuttle compound is the one and only thing that matters now. Nothing else.

They had reached about fifty yards away before one of the invaders had opened fire on the compound. Jor, who was running away finally looked up to see an invader firing at the compound. The compound’s upper area burst into a roaring ball of smoke and flame. Jor and Lara shielded their eyes from the light and halted their running. The force of the blast had brought their run to a complete halt as they squinted their eyes upward to the compound.

Jor was unwilling to lose hope. “Come on! There’s still a chance!” he yelled as he continued his run.

The two continued to run at a slightly slower pace than their earlier run. As they neared the compound, they could feel the heat of the smoke touch their skins. Lara was thankful that Kal remained shielded from anything on the outside from his spherical protection.

As Jor and Lara reached the front doors of the facility, they stopped for a moment before cautiously entering the now damaged building. Inside, the main room wasn’t as damaged as the upper area, but the shuttles remained in the upper area, where they witnessed the explosion.

“Let’s go!” Lara exclaimed as she found the stairways that led to the upper floors.

The two continued their panicked run. By the time they reached stairwell, the sounds of the shouting and crashing had softened. Without the overwhelming resonances of anarchy, the couple had only their breaths and pants to hear. Their hearts banged against their chests as they refused to slow down.

Jor opened the door to the second floor and his heart had missed a beat. The second floor was only one of many floors for a shuttle compound, and the ceiling for the shuttle compound had been entirely missing, leaving them bare for the invaders, save for some of the remains of the invaders’ destruction of the compound. The shuttles that would’ve been there have been dismantled or buried deep under impenetrable chunks of rock and iron.

Jor’s breathing went rapid, refusing to believe this. “There must be one undamaged!” he persisted, moving in towards the ruins.

The couple moved through the debris and scrutinized what was left of the room in the hardest way possible. Most of the shuttles they saw had been dislodged from their standing positions that were supposed to be mounted on stands that faced openings to the outside of the building, waiting for any single person to be launched out for safety. None of them were mounted, however. None were in stable enough conditions to be launched out to the cold heart of space. A lot of them had large dents in the middles and the rest of them had been ripped in half from large beams of metal that had fallen on them.

Jor and Lara’s eyes shifted in every direction for an unharmed shuttle. Their eyes danced and all they found was nothing—

“There!” Jor yelled, pointing at one that was mounted as it should be.

Lara let out a relieved exhale as she saw what her husband was pointing to.

The two scurried over towards the one rocket that remained unmaimed amidst the scattered pieces of the buildings. They saw that it was in good condition.

“Any others?” Lara asked frantically. “Are there any others?”

Jor looked around. The second floor was all that was left of the entire upper portion of the compound, and there was no way they could go anymore. Heading outside would mean more chances of getting themselves killed and there’ll be no escape from the invaders.

Jor hesitated as he returned his face to the lone functional shuttle. He saw that the shuttles could only occupy one person at a time and not multiple. It wouldn’t be possible to fit himself, his wife and Kal into a shuttle.

He sighed and held his mouth open. “That’s all there is, Lara,” he spoke hanging his head but maintaining direct eye contact.

Lara’s mouth slowly opened at Jor’s insinuation.

“There’s no other compound for miles,” Jor said, “and the only other shuttle compound is near your sister’s. We’re too far away.”

Jor’s eyes turned from wide to narrow in defeat. He felt his throat swell as he thought of the only way to spare the House of El’s extinction. But if there was a chance of any of them surviving, there was no other alternative.

“We only have for one,” Jor spoke in a pained, yet deep tone.

Lara’s felt as if her heart dropped down further. Her hands turned ice cold along with the rest of her body as she looked down into the bubble her son had been inside of with the feeling of imminent tears trying to escape from her eyes. Before the invaders’ arrival was just another peaceful day. Another day to tend to her son and prepare for the days of Kal’s maturity into manhood, teaching him the ways of their culture, their philosophy, their beliefs, and above all—their lives and how honored he would be among the House of El.

She looked above to see that the invaders were not in any way slowing down their relentless assault. The soldiers they witnessed dying at their hands would only increase with no way of stopping it. Kal’s birthplace would be left in ruins, but his life could be intact.

Lara closed her eyes and swallowed.

Jor noticed his wife’s despondency. He neared her before placing his arms around her. “There’s no other way,” he whispered.

“I know,” Lara said in a low voice.

Jor breathed through his nose and exhaled. “There’s no time,” he spoke. “We have to hurry.”

“We don’t even know where he’ll be,” Lara said, fighting emotion.

Jor immediately looked on the console that was next to the shuttle. He typed in a few keys and stared at the screen intensely. Above him, the invaders’ continued their onslaught, and he could only hurry before anything else were to happen to them or worse—the shuttle.

Jor finally stopped typing as the console was searching for anything habitable. His breath turned harder and faster to compensate for the heart beating relentlessly inside him as he was waiting and waiting for anything the console to show him.

At long last, his eyes froze on what the console was displaying. It was a planet that had a mix of blue, white and several patches of green and brown. It was called “Earth” according to its inhabitants, who have nearly the same biological structure as Kryptonians. Atmosphere contained primarily nitrogen along with some oxygen as well as slight traces of argon and carbon dioxide, which would be fit for Kryptonian biology. The sun’s radiation was unlike Krypton’s, however. Sun is classified as a G-type Star.

Jor’s eyes slightly widened at the reading of a G-type star—something that Kryptonians haven’t been exposed to for centuries and never discovered ones, ever since their commitment to the planet’s resources. Because of the number of solar masses, this would naturally enhance Kryptonian biology given enough exposure. Kal would be safe, but his biological structure will be enhanced among other Earthians. The Earthians would think of Kal as some sort of god or immortal. . .

“What is it?” Lara asked eagerly. “What have you found?”

Jor shook himself out of thought, glanced at Lara, then back to the screen. “There is one planet,” he said. “It’s called Earth. The sun is a G-type.”

Lara leaned closer and read the contents of planet Earth. “He’ll be enhanced. He’ll be an outcast among them,” Lara warned. “What of the shuttle’s cryostasis? Once the shuttle reaches there, it’ll be dismantled along with the orb.”

“It’s his only chance,” Jor said. “He’ll be an outcast,” he admitted. “But among them, they can’t hurt him. He’ll be the supreme being on that planet.”

Lara faced away from the monitor and her husband. This was unfair. She had only begun motherhood for not even a month’s passing. It was a slight relief that Kal would be enhanced more than the Earthians. However, Earth’s culture was a mystery to her. Her thoughts dwelled on a possibility that Kal would be raised in hostility. What if they kill him before he reaches manhood? She looked back up into the sky. The invaders’ assault was never going to die, and neither was the amount of suffering Kandor was facing. It’s either all three of them or just them two. Her lips tucked themselves as she sniffled before exhaling. Nodding in agreement, she only said, “We don’t have time,” as her voice quivered.

Jor nodded. “Get him in. Hurry.”

As Jor worked on the console, he let go of the Kryptonian firearm as well as the supply box. Equipping the matrix orb containing Kal in front of her, Lara pressed a button on the shuttle. The glass hatch’s interior was a foggy blue light from the frozen cryo-tube within, which would keep the occupant frozen alive. At the press of the button, the frozen material instantly disappeared, and the glass hatch opened. She felt her strength numbing as she thought more and more about the inevitable fate of their son. There was no time. She clenched her muscles as she continued her duty. Holding Jor’s supply case, which contained all their sentimental family values, she placed them in the shuttle. If Kal was to be the only survivor of the House of El, then he would continue their legendary honor. Thankfully, the shuttle’s interior was large enough to contain the supply case before Kal’s matrix orb was able to fit in.

As Lara lifted the Kal’s matrix orb, she froze. Knowing that she was saying a final goodbye to her one and only child, she couldn’t move. As an involuntary quick gasp left her along with her eyes leaking in despair, she placed the matrix orb within the shuttle and pressed the button, resealing it with a glass shell. After the hatch closed, a light blue crystal materialized within, crackling as it froze, keeping young Kal in protective stasis. She placed her hand on the glass hatch of the shuttle, which gave a slightly cool sensation from the cryostasis her son resided in, forever out of their reach.

“The coordinates are set,” Jor announced, looking back at Lara. She didn’t even look up to him but understood him.

Jor took notice of his wife’s anguish and approached her. He had shared her thoughts about the uncertainty of their only son. “He will live,” he assured.

Lara faced her, now ready to accept it. “Yes,” she nodded.

All that was left for them to do was to make the final arrangements.

Lara reached into one of the pockets of her dress and pulled out a small silver box which was no bigger than her own palm. On it had the imprinting of the double curving symbol of the House of El. She placed the silver box next to the shuttle and activated a small slot that popped out a tiny lid from its steel side. Lara slid the silver box onto the open lid and had it retracted back into place.

“Have you reconfigured the A.I. programming?” Jor asked.

“Yes,” Lara answered breathily.

“Good,” Jor could only reply. “The countdown has been initiated. Launch for Earth in sixty seconds.”

Lara comprehended her husband but couldn’t take her eyes off where their son had laid within the shuttle that would soon leave them to no return. She thought back on when they had first seen Kal together. It had only been a week and no years have passed by to honor that day. There will never be one. She squinted and squeezed her lips tight as her eyes again began to fill. She placed her hand on the glass hatch where her son had been encased and sniffled. Jor rested his head on Lara’s shoulder and held her stomach with one arm while he also placed his other hand on hers. As the two were sending their prayers for their child’s safety and future, they had noticed something amiss.

All had fallen silent.

The sounds of miscellaneous panic and destruction had fallen to nothingness. Jor and Lara looked above them. The metallic invaders were nowhere to be seen. Around them was smoke rising from their wake upon the buildings they had attacked earlier. The sky had turned nearly dark from the combination of the sun’s descent and smoke.

Directly above them was the larger ship which had now been hovering right above them. It had no longer been blanketed by Krypton’s atmosphere and had fully entered its airspace. The angular claw-like beams underneath had stretched wide open. Jor and Lara, now holding each other, squinted upward and saw that a faint blue light had formed within the center of the underside of the vessel.

Jor and Lara then turned their attention to Kal’s shuttle; it had only thirty seconds left. If there was ever a time to escape, it would have to be now than ever. In fright, they looked back up and the blue light had grown larger and bright enough for both of them to shield their eyes. They kept glancing back at the timer in the desperate hopes that the countdown would speed up.

A loud hissing sound had rung through their ears as they saw the blue light grow to a blinding white. Jor and Lara ducked on reflex and both covered their faces with their arms and tried to focus on their son’s shuttle. Ten seconds, counting down. Frantic, they silently pleaded for the shuttle’s countdown to hurry up as they figured that the blue light would mean something far worse than what they had witnessed earlier—

The ground shook violently. A thundering rumble had rung through their ears and their legs almost gave in to the unexpected tension beneath them. Debris from the crushed ceiling above them had broken off and started falling, thankfully nowhere near where they were standing. Metallic clanging had echoed around them in addition to the low and loud quake. Lara yelped out in terror as she saw what had been left of where they were standing was collapsing. Cracks had begun to form upward in the walls and were beginning to shatter. Jor tightened his arms around his wife and they had looked at Kal’s shuttle.

The shuttle had reached zero.

The relief of seeing the shuttle reach its final number had made the rumbling seem soft to them. The engine at the end of the shuttle began to stir, creating an extra rumble with the rest of its environment. It flashed a blue aura and in an almost instant, made a massive booming noise that was even loud enough for Jor and Lara to hear. In the blink of an eye, the shuttle blasted away from where it once stood and soared out into the sky passing by the large ship above them. Soon enough, the shuttle had turned into a small black spec and faded away from Krypton’s atmosphere.

Jor and Lara let out a sharp exhale of bittersweet relief. The sight of watching the shuttle fire away was too much for Lara. Lara felt a lump in her throat and let out quick gasps as her breathing began shaking erratically. It had finally hit her. Even though the shuttle would have the capacity to make it out of the planet’s atmosphere, there was no telling it would be able to leave undetected by whatever was out there or not. Maybe it could be shot down. It may have been all for nothing. Unable to hold back any longer, her face and broke into a sob. She squeezed her eyes tightly and buried her face into Jor’s chest. He wrapped his arms around his love tightly as his face began to break with hers, having mutual thoughts. He then rested his head onto her shoulder in a fastened intimate embrace.

“Jor . . .,” Lara whimpered wheezily, not knowing if he had heard that during all the commotion.

Jor blinked away tears as he moved his hands up to her head.

Lara removed herself from Jor’s chest and looked up at him with her tears still streaming down to her cheek. She looked into her husband’s red wet eyes. He placed his hands on the side of her face. His touch soothed her as she felt herself begin to regain her serenity. He saw her relaxed emotion it had channeled through to him. From she saw, he had said something, but the loud rumbling layered over it. She didn’t hear him, but she read his lips and recognized that movement long enough to understand him.

“I love you.”

* * *

Every inch of Kandor had been caught in a colossal convulsion. People were running without a sense of direction in panic. Soldiers even joined the frenzy as even they had no idea what to do, either dropping or gripping their weapons. Civilians ran everywhere, hoping to get their families and loved ones to safety as the quake wouldn’t cease. Screams and cries rang through the city in a long mortifying chorus. The blue light had flared so vividly that some were blinded to where they could run to.

The ship that loomed above made no movement as the beam continued feeding out of its underside. As the beam maintained its position, circling around Kandor, the top of every tall building had started acting strangely. Their colors went from steel silver to the same color as the blue light that shined upon it. As the color traveled downwards, the tops of the tallest buildings began to fade. They had vanished into thin air. Like the color, the vanishing traveled downwards on all buildings. As the buildings disappeared from where they once stood proud and tall, it began to affect lower buildings. Whiteness emitted from the entire city and a loud hissing buzz rung outward.

A couple of seconds had followed and the entire plane where Kandor once stood had vanished. The grand capital that inhabited the noble families that long served Krypton’s politics and the economy was no more. All that had been left was a large round crater of rough, loose soil where the city had been settled. There was nothing but silence that followed.

* * *

Kal’s shuttle jetted through the cold and dark space as the planet Krypton was affected by distance, making it smaller and smaller. The shuttle’s coordinates had remained on course as it was boosting the child to the mysterious and strange planet called Earth. As Kal’s shuttle sped away from Krypton, a loud bang rumbled. The planet where Kal had been launched had burst into a massive ball of fire. A colossal shock wave rippled outwards at a thousand miles a second. The combustion separated chunks of the planet away as everything that had once inhabited it perished without a trace.

The shock touched the shuttle, but it only made it gave it a slight bump and Kal’s cryostasis remained intact. From there on, Kal’s journey had not been altered by the large commotion as it resumed to its coordinated location. For many days of what felt like a lifetime, the shuttle had passed by several other planets of different worlds as well as different kinds of stars. Despite the outside temperatures of the heated suns and freezing shades, Kal had not been harmed in his cryostasis.

After what seemed like a time without end, the mostly blue planet that had been called “Earth” had appeared within the shuttle’s range. As the shuttle came closer and closer, its trajectory had altered as it was aiming near the center of a large continent on the planet. The G-type star that was nearby hadn’t shined a light on the area where the shuttle was landing, so it was nighttime wherever it was going to land. The closer the shuttle got to its final destination it began to increase in temperature. A red fiery layer coated the shuttle and the darkness soon brightened with several clouds that were right at the planet’s barrier. . .


	3. Chapter 3

**SMALLVILLE, KANSAS**

**1980**

The lonely house stood on the hill where the freshly cut grass from the earlier day time had sprayed a spring scent. A slight breeze that slowly traveled through brought some coolness from an otherwise agonizing scorching hot day. Inside the house, there was only one light on.

The thirty-something-year-old woman in the bed was on her side not in the slightest bit tired. The day had been unbearable for her. The day at the clinic had not brought her the good news she was dying to hear throughout her years of being married. For days, her family friends have been relentlessly asking her about the news of raising a family. After today, what would she tell them?

A tear had just begun to surface above her eye. The night couldn’t cure her, but it was an umbrella of a depressing storm. The sound of crickets singing happily on a warm night under a cloudless sky was the only thing keeping her peaceful. She didn’t mind the light from the desk lamp being on. It hadn’t mattered at that point.

The door to the bedroom opened at a gradual creak. She didn’t move. Her husband, a few years older than her stood there, calculating the words for her. There wasn’t anything easy to say. The news from the doctor today hadn’t brought any good news they were hoping for. Ever since they got home, she had been lying in bed, unmoving and bearing no emotion but numbness.

“Hey,” her husband said softly.

She didn’t answer.

“You okay?” he whispered openly.

Her eyes began to burn as they flooded. She couldn’t bear to face her husband in this state of despair. But her husband had sensed it.

Without making too much noise, he had gotten on the bed, settling himself near the edge. He laid beside her with one muscular farmer’s arm around her, supporting her. Seconds followed, and he felt her hand place itself on his arm.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against the nape of her neck, feeling her grief.

She tucked her lips inward, blinking back any more tears upon hearing the comfort of his words.

The man sighed through his nose quietly. “I know how much you wanted to have a family,” he said placing his chin on her bare tender shoulders. “But you are the family I need. _You_ are my family.”

The woman sniffled. She couldn’t take it. She turned herself around tears now rolling down freely. Her husband proceeded to wrap his arms around her, securing her.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No . . .,” the husband shushed, holding her even tighter. “I love you more than anything in this whole world. The doctors did all they could. And I don’t blame you. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”

The sound of rattling metal from the lamp on the desk drawer beside the bed rang. The light from the lamp started flickering on and off, startling the husband and wife. They shot themselves up from their sides on the bed and darted their eyes all around. They saw that everything hanging on the wall was vibrating, adding along to the chorus of rattling as they felt the bed move on the wooden floor. A tremor began shifting everything around them. Their eyes darted everywhere.

“Oh, God,” the husband said, “it’s an earthquake!”

“Quick!” the wife shouted as they both darted out of the bed and quickly got themselves on all fours. Fighting the vibrations of the room, the husband and wife crawled under the bed. The husband firmly gripped on the wooden legs tightly while the wife bunched herself within the man’s chest, shielding herself from anything. The rumbling noises were then overtaken by another noise. A noise that started as a low whistling sound. The whistling started as high pitched that could pierce anyone’s hearing ability. The couple winced, though only at first. The whistling then began to lower its own pitch, but it came louder and louder by the second. At that point, it became too much. The husband and wife both covered their ears as the sound became too loud for them to bear. It became louder, and louder, and—

A large crash followed that was loud enough to make both their eardrums move. The tremor then reached its worst. The shaking became too harsh, that at least two hanging frames on the bedroom walls had given and fallen to the floor. Not even a second later, and the noises had gradually fallen.

Silence.

The husband and wife were still underneath the bed, tightening every muscle, preparing for any kind of aftershock to occur.

Nothing had happened.

The only sound now was the panting of the couple. The crickets’ chorus was no more.

The wife ever so gently opened her eyes and all she could make out was the view from underneath the bed. Nothing around her had changed. “What the hell?” she whispered.

The husband cautiously looked upward in curiosity, wondering what would come next. Nothing did. All was as silent as the night before this curious quake.

“What was that?” the wife asked.

“That was short,” the husband remarked with relief hidden in his voice.

“That didn’t sound like an earthquake” she said. “Sounded like something hit the ground.”

The husband decided it was time to get himself out from under the bed and make a move. He lifted himself up and painstakingly peeked through the window that overlooked the front yard and field.

Something had indeed landed outside. Instead of an empty peaceful field, smoke was rising from a large object had landed, forming a depression that surrounded it. Within the dent in the earth were several weak and dying flames. Seconds later, the smoke became thinner and thinner until it was clear from what it was curtaining. The object was nearly the size of a Volkswagen. It had a long looking structure like an oval. Along the sides of it had, what looked like, fins as if it were shaped like a rocket or shuttle.

Some sort of missile, Jonathan thought to himself as he analyzed it. Someone fired a missile that turned out to be a dud? It didn’t look like any other missile he’s seen.

“Jonathan, what is it?” Martha asked.

“I’m not sure,” he answered.

“Stay right here,” he said as he got himself out from underneath the bed. He then walked over to the corner of the bedroom where a double-barreled shotgun had fallen from the crash. Grabbing it, he reached into the nearby desk drawer.

“Jonathan, what are you—?” the wife exclaimed softly.

“Martha, stay here,” he insisted as he grabbed shotgun shells and inserted them into his weapon. As he loaded it, he peeked his head outside the only window that overlooked the lonely grassy field. Nothing had changed, only that there was far less smoke now.

Martha got up from where she hid and walked over towards her husband to get a peek outside of their house. She saw what he was looking at and stared in amazement. The rocket-looking object didn’t have a

“Is it the Russians?” Martha asked trying to make sense of it.

“Out in the middle of Kansas? I didn’t think they could get that far.” Jonathan hoisted the shotgun with him and proceeded to exit the bedroom as Martha followed.

The two made their way down the stairs which lead them a meter and a half away from the front door leading to the porch. With the shotgun in one hand, he pushed the front door open with his hand. By now the smoke had died down, save for the lighting coming from the little fires that were just about gone.

Jonathan walked out onto the porch with Martha following with her hands on her husband’s shoulders in caution. The rocket had made no other noise aside from its booming collision from earlier. The noises of crickets remained mute. The only sound that remained was the crackling of the measly fires that were now almost to nothing but hot patches in the grass.

Jonathan and Martha got themselves down from the front stairs out onto the unharmed portion of the grassy field. They could feel the slight heat from the large object, slowing down their pacing towards the crater.

As they got their way to where the depression started just inches away from their feet, they looked down as Jonathan had his shotgun at the ready. They looked down and they saw a better view of the rocket. It had a very peculiar design. From what it seemed, there were little engravings on the rocket. It didn’t look like any other comprehensible language, not even Russian dialogue.

The biggest feature that caught both Jonathan and Martha’s eyes was that there was a large glass-like window that was placed in the center of the rocket. The glass had been cracked open, revealing a black void beyond it. It was hard to tell the contents within from where they were standing.

As the couple neared further with Jonathan’s shotgun aimed, a sound was heard. It was a little coo and then turned into a fuss. Both gasped as they heard it.

“Oh my God!” Martha silently gasped with her eyes growing white-hot as they widened. “It’s a baby!”

The baby’s cooing turned a little louder now. Aside from the oddity, it was a beautiful sound for Martha, who thought she would never live to hear after today. The sound eased Jonathan’s grip on the shotgun, but he kept it in the same position as he tilted his head and squeezed his eyebrows together.

“A _baby?”_ he said wildly. “In a _rocket?”_

“We gotta get it out!” Martha exclaimed as she reached over towards the rocket.

“Wait!” Jonathan exclaimed, not buying this for one second. “What if it’s something else?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jonathan!” Martha insisted. “It’s a child!”

Martha climbed over and looked through the angular hole where the glass had broken. She looked inside beyond the jagged edges of the glass and there it was. Indeed, there was a baby. The baby was letting out several babbling cries in a repeating pattern. It had been tucked in what seemed a nice cushioned little space where it had been lying. Wrapped around it was a large red cloth, save for its chubby warm-red squinting face.

“Careful,” Jonathan warned as he saw his wife about to place her hands near broken glass.

Thankfully, the hole within the glass wasn’t too small for any person to reach inside without being cut if one was careful enough. Martha’s arms fit perfectly inside the rocket’s window and braced the child with all of her fingers that wrapped themselves around the red cloth. With both her hands on the child’s sides, she scooped the clothed baby from where it had been lying.

Taking her time, she pulled the baby out of the window of the rocket and placed it within her own arms, giving Martha much warmth. As the child was now free from its glassy prison, Martha looked down at it.

She let out a joyful gasping laugh. The child was beautiful. Martha nearly shivered while holding it in her arms. This moment had been exactly what she had imagined for the longest time since she thought about having a baby. It was finally here.

With the shotgun now held in one hand pointing downward, Jonathan’s eyes froze on Martha’s face. He had not seen her smile this brightly in the longest time. Seeing her so content forced a smile on his face. Enough seconds, and he could’ve joined her tears.

“Oh, he’s beautiful!” Martha exclaimed with tears in her eyes. “It’s a boy.”

Jonathan’s trance broke and reality returned. “But what’s a baby doing in . . . in a rocket? I mean, do you think . . . maybe the Russians would put it up there?”

That statement was enough to break Martha out of her enchantment. She gave her husband a look. “Why would the Russians put a baby in _space?”_

“I . . . I don’t know!” he stammered. “Like . . . what if they come back looking for him or something?”

Yeah, it did sound ridiculous in that sense.

Martha just cocked her head and squinted at him.

“We’ll need to get him to a doctor or something,” he recovered. “Maybe call a sheriff and see if they could . . . they could find out who he belongs to.” His voice trailed, realizing that he was losing this argument.

“What kind of person would place a child in something like this?” Martha asked aggressively.

“We don’t know where it came from, Martha,” Jonathan replied, trying to bring her to her senses. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“He’s not from around here,” Martha admitted. “But this child needs a home. And _that,”_ she bitterly pointed at the ruined rocket, “is _not_ the place for it.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows and looked at his wife curiously. “Are you suggesting that we keep him?” he asked, wondering if they were intimating what he figured they were doing.

“Whoever put him in that thing isn’t raising him,” Martha said deeply. “He’s staying with us.”

Jonathan looked as if he was about to speak, but Martha caught him off and continued, “We know he’s not from here. That also means that this thing,” she pointed at the rocket with her free finger, “doesn’t look like it’s from around here. We don’t even know _what_ it is. Do you?”

Jonathan desperately tried to find answers within himself to these questions. Questions that he might as well have asked himself. If this baby just crash-landed in a mysterious looking object, then government agents might be looking for him. On the other hand, he was thankful that he was just as stumped as she was as they both were thinking the same thing. “No,” Jonathan answered calmly.

Martha nodded in understanding as the baby started fussing more. She started making bopping motions with her arms to soothe its stirring, silently hushing it while holding its tiny head.

Jonathan looked at his wife again. Before the day’s earlier news, he had dreamed about a day like this. He had dreamed about his wife holding their own child one day. The sight of his wife holding a child for theirs to keep forced a smile onto his face as he saw this fantasy form into reality. She was deeply saddened moments ago; he found that taking that away from her would’ve been too difficult.

The baby’s fussing began to give up as Martha’s arm movements and soft shushing were seemingly working. The fussing turned to cooing and eventually silence. Martha looked at the baby’s sleeping face. It was so peaceful and so beautiful, her face turned from fear and concern to a profound form of contentment. While she was just as clueless as the baby’s origins as her husband was, she silently thanked God for bringing the child and her together.

As the night was calm and undisturbed once again, Jonathan, not taking his eyes off the baby, placed his hands on Martha’s shoulders in support. Martha looked at her husband and couldn’t help but smile. She released a trembling breath of delight. “Let’s get him inside.”


	4. Chapter 4

**TWELVE YEARS LATER**

Friday morning had a bright and sunny dawn. Several clouds moved at an ever so slow pace. The seven o’clock springtime sunlight warmed the open field that had healed after so many years ago. Jonathan took care of it by simply ordering many bags of dirt to fill it in and fertilizer to bring it back to its natural state of being an open field. Several months passed, and the front field only looked like it had a mild depression that would be easily mistaken for a sinkhole.

The child was assumed to be the Kents'. They were fortunate that Martha hadn’t broken the news of her actual infertility after that day. It was also fortunate that the Kents have never been questioned by any government authority figure, who would be asking the whereabouts of a child in a rocket-like Jonathan had been suspecting for several weeks. Naturally, the Kents began to slowly over time accept that this child was their own.

Jonathan left it to his wife to name the child “Clark" after her father, whom she had deeply loved in her younger days. The years passed, and Clark grew older. The days of him obeying his parents’ moralities that he had been taught over the years were diminishing, making way for a whole new identity. “This is only a phase,” was what Jonathan and Martha would usually tell themselves. At the age of twelve—the typical onset of rebellion—it was crucial that they step in before he would make any rash decisions that a lot of other kids got in trouble for. All those years of preparing for a day like this was coming closer than ever before, and it was a matter of time before he would start his defiance.

Clark Kent hurried downstairs at the sound of his name being called. By the time he had reached the first floor, he saw his father reading the paper like always and his mother putting together the finishing touches on breakfast plates for all three of them. Jonathan had placed the newspaper down and folded it back to the chair next to him as he reached for his morning orange juice. Martha sat herself down just as Clark made it to the table.

“Did you comb your hair?” Martha asked Clark.

“Of course,” Clark answered openly.

Martha made a feigned curious face. “Then why do I see at least three Alfalfa parts sticking up?”

Clark froze awkwardly and looked at Jonathan, who had a face that was curious, wondering what Clark's excuse would be.

“Well . . .,” Clark began, “I meant ‘yes’, as in, ‘yeah, I _will_ comb it’. Like, yeah, it’ll happen in the not-so-distant future.”

“Uh-huh,” Martha said all knowingly. “And don’t skip out on your breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Clark knew better not to roll his eyes in front of his parents while they were giving another “after-school special” talk. He was not a little kid anymore for crying out loud. He was old enough to make more decisions on his own accord. The other kids at school were starting to do the same, so why can’t he?

“I won’t,” Clark assured with a smile, so he’d appear friendly. “And besides, I love a third consecutive breakfast of eggs again.”

“Amen,” Jonathan agreed brightly as Clark pointed towards him and nodding at Martha.

“Good protein, right?” Clark smirked in a way to make him appear sincere. “Could also up the ante on bacon, though.”

Martha shot an unamused look at Clark.

“Just a thought, just a thought. . .” Clark muttered in defeat, looking back at his plate and resumed eating.

Martha dropped the unamused façade and returned to her natural tone. “Get ready soon, or you’ll be late for the bus,” she said as the three continued to eat.

Once he was done, Clark ran up the stairs and finished the rest of his school preparations that he mostly despised more than anything else. The bright side of the whole ordeal was that he wouldn’t have to worry about that much longer. After all, the school year was ending as spring was reaching its close and onwards to the upcoming summer. Though, there would have to be more days and exams to get through, and more bus rides to be quiet during.

The bus rides to school never got better for Clark over the years, even in Junior High. He was hoping that he’d find a perfect friend that would match the same character like him, but he found that all the other kids were too occupied with their own lives. On the bus, kids were either too loud or playing with their Game Boys, which Clark didn’t have to share; his parents told him that video games were just a waste of time. He just remained to himself, save for only one girl that would occasionally have more than a few words to say to him.

“Hi, Clark,” a redheaded girl would say frequently when they crossed paths.

Clark responded with an awkward smile and wave. Lana Lang would usually sit with her friends and have only conversations that her other friends found interesting, like how hot some boy bands are as well as celebrities. When she wasn’t surrounded by her crowd, she’d usually have something to say to Clark. Because of this, he thought for a long time that she’d might have a crush on him. Yet, he never knew how to return the favor. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a crush; maybe it was just a simple friendly gesture. He at least appreciated that.

He never thought much about conversations with girls except when he’d overhear boys talking about _Playboy_ magazines, sneaking into girls’ locker rooms or other topics that his parents would no doubt have a heart attack over. As the words reached Clark’s ears, he’d grimaced. Thankfully, he already had the dreaded and nausea-inducing ‘talk’. As for Clark, he generally thought that girls were either nice or popular, who had always taken advantage of other students to further themselves. Clark had seen too many times of how cruel the popular boys and girls alike would treat their peers; thus, he deemed it necessary that isolation would spare him the humiliation.

Despite his limited social circle, Clark found himself doing fairly well in school. He wasn’t a straight A or honors student, but he would frequently impress his parents with exceptionally high grades that would get him several awards that awaited at home. From what he could infer as he got older, Clark had always thought his parents were different from all the other parents; are his parents the same as any other parents? He remembered kids talking about late-night video game parties and sneaking in to watch R-rated movies in late-night showings. What kind of parents would allow their kids to do those? Did they forbid it, or were they not careful enough? Or was it just a group that Clark wasn’t meant to be part of?

For a long time, he wondered if being alone was best. No harm, no burden. All those years spent by himself save for only with his parents were the only times he had felt safe and comfortable.

Today, it all changed.

As the day progressed, Clark kept his focus in classes. As per usual scenario in a lecture, he raised his hand when he had an answer or question. His concentration was as perfect as it always was, that is until he started having strange distractions.

While his teacher was talking, Clark started hearing more than one voice. It was almost as if he was in a room with talking ambiance like in a cafeteria or even recess. He looked around him confused to wonder why every student in the classroom would start talking at once. Do they not know that there is a lesson going on? However, he saw that none of the other students were moving their mouths. Some were either paying attention, passing dirty notes or asleep. He looked outside to the window, which was facing the playground for the elementary school kids. He witnessed two kids who were talking and fighting over the ball from a distance. His eyes widened as he could not believe what he was seeing, or most of all, hearing. He heard every word of their conversation as if he was standing right there with them. The voices he was hearing were impeccably matching the body language between the two bickering kids. He heard them arguing who had the ball. He shook his head wondering if he himself was feeling alright. But the talking didn’t stop. His breathing accelerated as it soon drowned out what the teacher was saying.

“Clark . . . Clark . . . Clark!”

Clark snapped his attention to the teacher. Suddenly, the commotion of hearing the outside voices had ceased. There was only the sound of soft air conditioning blowing through the classroom.

“Am I boring you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow while still pointing at the chalkboard board, which had all the contents of what she was lecturing.

Clark nervously shifted his eyes to the window and the teacher. He sensed that other classmates were snickering. He felt his face flush.

“N-no,” he stuttered, trying to sound innocent.

“Then pay attention,” she said sternly. “You only have an hour left until the day’s over. You’ll live.”

The other students giggled, and Clark lowered his face while his body slowly sank into his seat in the desperate hopes that no one would see his face. He always hated it when he was the center of attention that made him look goofy. Other students took pride in their troublemaking performances whilst Clark wanted little to no attention; he just wanted to get through a normal day and not be bothered.

Clark was then thankful that his attention to the teacher was now more in focus, as the previous sounds of children arguing over a ball outside were no longer heard. While he was more engaged in the teacher’s topic, he couldn’t help but think back. Not on the embarrassment as he always thought back on when called out, but that he fully understood what the kids were saying to each other despite that he was far away and behind brick walls and a glass window.

Thankfully, the rest of the school hours went by quite fast. Clark was grateful that it was at least a Friday. He had told his parents that he wanted to walk home that day, which took the longest time to convince them that it was alright for him to. He had always wanted to be on the outside and rather than observing it through the bus windows. He had always admired the outside scenery that sped by him as he only watched from a distance.

As he got outside after the stampede of students rushing to get outside of the school on a Friday afternoon, he noticed Lana running off to her friends. He was nearly disappointed to see her run off to her friends, who he never dreamed about nearing while saying something to her. He even noticed that Lana was looking at him while speaking with her giggling companions. Her friends then glanced at Clark and started laughing more. Even under the sunlight’s warmth, he felt his own face warm on the outside, giving him even more heat. That was all Clark needed from that to get him moving on.

Clark started walking away further from the school grounds and started on the road that would take him away from the property.

“Clark!”

Clark spun around in surprise not just at the mention of his name, but that it came from someone that he knew would have the power to lighten things up.

Lana walked up to him, wearing a face that looked like she wanted to tell him something. “Hey.”

Clark made an awkward attempt at sounding friendly. “Hey.”

“Listen, we’re gonna hang out this afternoon at the meadow. Wanna come?”

Clark’s heart missed a beat. For the first time, an invitation had been extended to him personally. All other times, he had attended birthday parties and even then, he wasn’t really all that close with the hosts or guests. At the same time, he knew that his parents were expecting him home. But he would be quick; it wouldn’t last that long.

“We’re not allowed on the soccer field after school. Just a little Friday afternoon thing,” Lana further explained.

“Uh, sure. Yeah!” Clark said proudly, displaying a smile that made him feel like an idiot.

“Awesome!” she gleamed. “Just follow us,” she said as she walked towards the crowd but slow enough to allow Clark to follow.

“Wait, uh . . .,” Clark asked dumbfounded as he only _now_ realized. “Um . . . where is the meadow?”

“It’s not far. Just follow us. It’s really nice.”

“Oh. Okay, cool,” Clark smiled casually. He was grateful that she didn’t think he was stupid. _What does she see in me?_ “So, who else is coming?”

“Just Pete Ross and some of my friends,” she answered informatively.

Clark blinked at the mention of Pete Ross. Pete was more of the popular kid who neither had pure kindness or cruelty. He was fair among the other kids, though he had preferences of who to hang out with. It was surprising but assuring that he would’ve wanted Clark to join him in hanging out. Clark beamed with joy as he joined the walk with the other students.

The walk to the meadow had been a peaceful one, even if it was with a group of people he may or may not have seen before. The sound of musical cicadas gave the peaceful notion of a spring’s afternoon. The sun’s light passed a warming and inviting sensation while Clark continued to follow. He kept close to Lana, who was with her friends. He wanted to say something, but the other classmates were making it too difficult. He often wondered what Lana had said to her friends right before he was invited along. Was this a way for her to tell him that she likes him? What if she does like him?

“Hey, Clark!” Lana said looking back. Her friends dissipated away as she was calling to him.

Clark looked up and his face gave her attention.

She approached him, squinting from under the sun’s brightness. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered as if to say why wouldn’t he.

Her expression turned sincere. “Sorry if this was sudden,” she said, her face seeming to be calculating the next words. “It’s just . . . I don’t know, like, I mean, you seem like a nice guy and we thought you’d like to come along.”

Yep. She definitely liked him.

“No, I, uh,” he cursed himself for not finding the right words, “I-I wanted to. Come along,” he said, forcing the last two words out. God, it was hard enough talking!

“Yeah?” she said, her eyes softly rose.

“Yeah,” he answered fast. At least that was honest. “I just . . . I never really, you know, hung out with . . . well, anyone,” he forced a chuckle as if it sounded ridiculously comical.

“Oh,” she answered in deep understanding. “Well, I talked to Pete, and he said he was okay if you came along.”

“He did?” Clark asked fascinated.

“Yeah, I asked him, and he said ‘sure’,” she smiled.

Clark hesitated. He was flattered that a popular classmate would be open to someone like him. They never talked much, and even if they exchanged words, it would’ve been a head-motioning gesture of noticing.

“Awesome,” Clark answered smiling brightly.

Lana reciprocated Clark’s face. “Come on,” she said walking faster to catch up with the others. “We’re almost there.”

Clark caught up with the rest of his shadowy classmates and was thankful that it wasn’t a big crowd. He counted that it was at least eight or so, no more than ten people. If it had been any more, Clark would’ve been more inclined to say no even if it was a chance to be more social. He looked back on it and thought that it maybe had more to do with Lana being involved. After all, he remembered feeling more compelled to join after Lana extended the invitation to him. Nowadays, he wasn’t sure what to feel. For a long time, he had wondered what it would’ve been like to hang out with the other kids, especially the popular ones. If this is what hanging out the popular kids was like, then it seemed like a great start. On a normal day, Clark would just spend his afternoons, weekends and summers with his parents, who would take him to carnival nights, the movies, or hiking through wooded areas around the state of Kansas. Other times, he would help his dad on the farmland. He would help cut the grass, water the strawberry fields when the rains weren’t cooperating and care for the barn animals. He’d also ride his bike around the grasslands and other local areas of Smallville; those were always nice. This was feeling nice too.

The more he thought about this, he had wondered how his parents would react if he came home a little later. He could tell the truth. After all, it was going to take longer getting home due to walking instead of the usual bus or car rides.

Several minutes occurred, and Clark and his classmates’ walk took them off the main road and onto a grassy plain that acted as the threshold to a massive meadow. Clark beamed at the sight.

It was unlike any other meadow he had seen on his way home from the bus, car rides and bike rides alike. It wasn’t a completely naked field; there were several shrubs scattered in random places. The horizon’s view was blocked by trees that curtained across the light green field. The sun reflected o the mounds of small hills hat rose from the earth, shining light through the swaying green grass blades.

“Alright!” Pete Ross announced as everyone else turned their attention towards him.

Pete sat his bookbag down next to one of the shrubs so the shade would protect it. The other classmates followed this motion as Clark did the same and sat his down very close to the other bags, convincing himself that he did belong with them.

One other male student gave a loud relieved sigh as he sat his bookbag down. “God, that felt better.”

“Like stroking your eggroll,” Pete answered.

Clark had understood that joke and chuckled softly.

The rest of the conversation had been an interesting experience for Clark. There were talks about what their weekends were, the criticisms they had for different teachers and how _Alien 3_ sucked when they saw it in theaters that somehow didn’t catch their age. Clark just listened to them talk all around him. As he listened, the talking began to tune out and realize that it was just him on the bus all over again; he was hearing the same things he overheard as an observer.

As the conversations continued, he noticed that Lana would glance over at him occasionally. He would smile at her to ensure that all had been well. He darted his eyes around him to see that none had trained their eyes on him or approached him. He then looked at Pete, who had been tossing a football to his other friends back and forth.

Clark inhaled and decided that it was time for his loneliness to come to an end. Fighting the inner feelings, he wanted to evolve from an onlooker to a participant.

“Hey, Kent! Go long!”

Clark shot a look at Pete, who was holding the football from quite a distance. The mentioning of his name made his face light up.

Well, that was easy.

Pete excitedly patted the football with his palm, preparing the throw while waiting for Clark to get to the designated distance. Clark was already running far, knowing how far Pete can throw when he tossed it to other players.

As he ran out thinking that this would be the distance that Pete could throw at, he looked back and Pete had already tossed the ball.

Clark’s adrenaline spiked as he saw the ball in the air, coming closer to him. Thankfully, he already had the practice from his dad from all those little baseball catching games he would have out in the yard.

Clark managed to catch the ball and was surprised by the impact. He had expected the leather along with the harsh smack against his palms would’ve left a very slight pain. Only it didn’t. He must’ve been more physical for sports than he had thought. Smiling to himself, he looked back at Pete.

“C’mon, Kent!” he called back, holding his hands apart.

Giddily to himself, Clark cocked his arm back, holding the football and threw it back.

Clark widened his eyes as he watched the ball’s trajectory. The ball was tossed back as Clark wanted, but it hadn’t landed in Pete’s hands. The ball had gone way over Pete’s head. In fact, the ball had gone past the entire group and it went past the meadow’s entrance which was at the beginning of the road. It continued even past the street and landed past a few trees on the other side of the road.

Clark’s face had immediately flushed and felt his cheeks burn.

“Holy shit, Kent!” Pete exclaimed laughing.

The other kids had either laughed at how far it went, and some had their mouths gaped in amazement, including Lara.

“Sorry!” Clark said from the distance as he raised his shoulders closer to his head, withdrawing himself.

“That was awesome!” Pete cried out as he turned around to find where the ball had gone.

Clark felt the relief smother him from Pete’s compliment. It felt good that he was interacting with a popular kid in school. He then thought ahead about other fantasies. Is this what hanging out with the other kids would be like? Maybe he could get into what the other kids were doing. He thought about sneaking into R-rated movies, playing video games until late at night on weekends and summer. Then he thought about what his parents would think . . . and grimaced to himself.

Pete returned to the field with the football in hand. Clark beamed and was ready for another toss.

“Do you play football often?” Pete asked.

“Uh. . . yeah,” Clark responded quickly. “I, uh, play with my dad all the time,” he added while nodding. _Yeah,_ Clark thought grumbly, _more like tossing the power tools on the farm._

“Cool,” Pete answered. “Wanna try an end run?”

“What?” Clark asked dumbfounded.

Pete looked around him and saw the bookbags. “Try running to the bookbags.”

Clark felt his face pale, and he was frozen in place. What was an end run—?

“Here!” Pete called as he threw his arm back, readying for a throw. “You ready?”

Without thinking, Clark nodded as held his hands open.

Pete tossed the ball and Clark got himself ready for that. He caught it once again with ease as his eyes dashed ahead of him to see that Pete had been sprinting out at him.

Oh. End run. That means tackling.

Thinking quick, Clark ran towards Pete’s direction but decided he would go left where the bookbags were.

Then Pete had turned in that direction. Clark decided to go in the other direction, but Pete was anticipating that. Pete had closed in on Clark within about a couple of yards and closing fast. Clark tried to dash in an opposite direction and didn’t notice it was a dumb move until Pete got in contact with him.

Pete had opened his arms out and laid into Clark, still clutching onto the football. As Pete’s arms wrapped around him, Clark tried to hold himself firm so the landing on the ground would be softened. However, both he and Pete found that Clark wasn’t going down that easily. Pete was holding onto Clark, who was still running, dragging Pete on the ground as his shoes were plowing into the grass.

Clark was surprised of his own stamina. He had always considered himself to be neither out of shape nor muscular; he saw himself as more run of the mill in strength. _Never_ the first to be picked on sports teams during P.E.. However, he was surprised to see that Pete was having a difficult time in taking him down.

Pete strained through his teeth and tightened his grip. Pete tightened more and more until his arms were sore. On instinct, Pete changed his arms position and reached up for Clark’s arm. As he grabbed it, that was enough for Clark to lose his balance.

Clark tried to hold on to the ball, but Pete’s grip had gotten him to lose focus on his sprint. Clark gasped as he was swung around and he toppled onto the grassy floor with Pete underneath him, holding onto Clark’s arm.

Pete let out a loud aggrieved cry that made Clark’s spine tingle. Clark’s eyes went wild as he heard Pete’s painful scream. Clark let go of the football and quickly stood up. As he looked at Pete, he felt fear coursing through him.

“ _Shit!”_ Pete yelled through gritted teeth as he was holding onto his arm.

“Pete!” Lara called out in panic. “You okay?”

Several other kids stopped what they were doing and stood up, watching Pete writhe and wince on the ground.

He kept groaning in excruciating pain. “My arm!” he strained.

Clark felt his lungs burn white-hot letting out quick loud gasps as he saw Pete’s face. “Oh, God!” he gasped. “I . . . I’m so sorry!”

“Pete?” Lara called out again as she approached him and Clark. “What’s wrong?”

“My arm!” he cried out again.

“Oh, God,” Lara gasped. Her eyes scanned Pete’s arm. It was hard to tell what exactly was wrong with it as he kept holding onto it. It couldn’t have been broken that easily just like that.

Turning around, she shouted, “go get help!”

The other kids shared shocked faces before turning around and returning to the road where they had once entered from.

Lara turned her head towards Clark, who was pale as snow and staring at Pete, who never ceased his groans.

“Clark?” Lara said.

Clark didn’t answer. His eyes were paralyzed, and his erratic breathing wouldn’t stop.

“Clark, are you okay?” Lara pressed.

Clark turned his head towards Lara, and she could see how terrified he was. “I . . .,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean to!”

The ambulance had arrived rather quickly. It was fortunate that the meadow wasn’t too far from their school grounds and some of the school crossing guards were still on duty. All the kids had stayed close after their parents were called. One paramedic was examining Pete, who winced through some of the procedures he was undergoing.

Despite the aversion of something worse, it didn’t bring peace to Clark. He had been sitting on the ground with a deep frown. On one hand, he wanted to go over and see if Pete’s arm was broken as he had feared, but his legs were too jellied, let alone felt numbness. His face paled in dread at the mention of phoning his parents from the paramedics. He sat on the ground, hugging his knees as he stared into space. His head was a fast merry-go-round of different emotions and thoughts. Pete’s shrill scream kept replaying over and over again in his head while he thought how this was all a big mistake. The additional thought of how much trouble he’d be in gave Clark less air in his lungs.

 _Don’t cry,_ he told himself. _Don’t cry . . ._

After answering several questions, Lara noticed that Clark hadn’t moved in the same spot ever since they arrived. They asked if he had been bullying Pete, but Lara jumped to his rescue and tried getting a look at his face. She saw how incredibly pensive he was and wondered if he’d noticed her. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

Clark didn’t look up. He knew she was there, but he’d rather not face anyone right now.

“Clark?” she tried again.

Clark swallowed. “How is he?” he uttered without looking at her.

“Just a broken arm, but he’s fine,” she assured. “What about you?”

Clark shook his head, embracing his worst fear. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Lara asked coaxingly.

“I don’t know,” Clark answered again, this time more pressing. “I just landed and . . . I don’t know.”

“Clark!” Martha’s voice came.

Clark’s heart missed a beat and he looked up. Martha and Jonathan were approaching him and fast. They both looked as if they’ve seen a ghost. Not good.

“Honey, are you okay?” Martha said as she sat next to him.

“There was . . .,” Clark began as his voice trailed off, unable to find the words. “We were playing and . . . I landed on his arm.”

Martha glanced at Jonathan, who nodded at her.

“Alright,” Jonathan said, “let’s go home.”

Clark swallowed. He recognized the discreet angry tone of his father’s that always told him when he was in serious trouble. He nodded and sat himself up as Martha had her arm around his shoulder as Jonathan led the two to the truck that Jonathan drove. He then looked over at Pete, who was still being examined by the paramedic. Pete was looking better at least. Then he felt his entire world crumble as he looked over at the other kids. Several of them were staring at him, either in shock or horror; it was hard to tell. He tried his best to look away, but he couldn’t stop sensing the dozens of eyes that were trained on him.

As the Kents got into the truck, Clark felt his face grow hot from guilt and shame as he was now in the company of his parents. The day had gone so well, so perfect.

“You told us you were going to walk home today,” Jonathan said darkly. “You were supposed to come straight back home. Nowhere else.”

“I know,” Clark muttered as he hung his head. “I just,” he sighed. He had to at least explain himself. “. . . I just wanted to . . .” his voice trailed off, losing his sentence. Maybe that was a bad idea.

Jonathan didn’t respond. He kept a firm eye on the road, but Clark knew him long enough to know that he was not in the best of moods.

Clark searched for more words to explain. He proceeded carefully, “Dad, I’ve never hung out with them before, okay? I just didn’t want to be alone—"

Jonathan turned his head so abruptly, it made Clark flinch. “You tell us right where you’re going from now on, do you understand me?”

“ _Jonathan_ ,” Martha warned.

Clark let out a frustrated scoff. “So, I can’t hang out with _anyone_?” Even as he felt right for defending himself, he already felt his throat swelling.

“Someone got hurt, Clark!” Jonathan exclaimed. “And it could’ve been you! You _will_ _not_ do that again,” he finished lowering is voice.

Clark swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he said breathily and looked out the window from where Martha was sitting, not bothering to know if she had a look.

He once again watched the outside world look back at him through a pane of glass. He dared himself not to face his father again. Any other time he disobeyed his parents would just be a talk of how disappointed his parents felt about his actions, prompting him that he’s better than this. In all these years of discipline, it never got so harsh for something so little as accidentally horse playing. He knew his parents trusted him enough to not injure someone on purpose. This felt much more different than any time before.

Enough minutes passed. However, he did find the courage to get a glimpse at Jonathan. From what Clark could gather, Jonathan’s face wasn’t angry or firm. The inner ends of his brows had closed together. It was curious because it almost matched the same face Clark had been wearing for the past several minutes. It was almost as if Jonathan’s expression indicated that he was feeling a sensation of worry. That wasn’t entirely uncommon. On previous occasions, Jonathan did regret yelling whenever Clark was out of line, albeit knowing that was for his own good. Only this felt different—or at least it _looked_ different . . .

The rest of the day had gone through in nearly silence. During dinnertime, not much was said with the exception of only short words. Clark did his best to avoid saying anything that would act as a segue to his actions.

Later that evening, the Kents’ house had become a dimly lit candle in the spring evening. Inside, the living room’s light was on, while Clark had gone to his room more than ready for the weekend.

Instead of spending another cloudless peaceful evening, he wanted to just sleep, hoping that today’s events would stop replaying in his head. No matter where he turned, he could still hear Pete’s screaming, the sight of the ambulance and his father’s beratement.

As he lay in his comfortable bed, he looked above him and at least got a glimpse of the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that he pasted on his ceiling. Its faint luminosity did bring some sort of ease which he was thankful for. As he gazed outside his lonely window just right above the side of his bed, he saw tiny twinkling dots of the real stars.

His bedroom door gradually creaked open.

Oh, great. More talk. Yeah, more and more ‘sorry for the yelling’. Can’t they just leave him alone?

“Hey,” Jonathan’s voice said softly.

Clark truly tried his hardest to make it seem like he wasn’t so agitated with either parent coming up to talk to him after today. All he wanted was sleep and deluded himself into believing that sleep would make this stupid day go away.

Jonathan slowly approached him making soft creaking noises on the wooden floor. Clark felt him sit next to him on the bed, followed by a hand being placed on his shoulder. Not the touch. That wasn’t making it better.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Jonathan whispered.

Clark’s only response was a stifled sigh that he tried to keep quiet.

Jonathan sighed and said slowly, “I know you were just trying to make friends. And your mother and I are so happy for you . . . but you have to understand, we worry about you every day.”

That made Clark turn his head. “Dad,” he sighed, restraining himself from raising his voice. Good thing he was too tired anyway. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I know,” Jonathan nodded humbly, “But you’re still my son, no matter how old you get.”

Jonathan hesitated again, thinking. Jonathan usually had an answer for a lot of things.

“Then why were you angry earlier?” Clark asked.

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. His head imagined so many scenarios of avoiding the truth. That is, until there was one undeniable truth.

“It’s because we love you,” he answered simply. “We get worried about you sometimes. And no matter what you think, and no matter how old you get, you’re very special to us. You’ve always been.”

“I know that, Dad,” Clark said shaking his head. He had heard that before. “But, it’s just . . . I just look at the other kids. And I want to be like them. And I really liked hanging out with them today. It felt good.”

Jonathan’s heart froze. _I want to be like them._ “I know,” he responded calmly, concealing his inner emotion. “Just . . . let us know where you’re going from now on, okay?”

“Okay,” Clark tiredly.

Smiling, Jonathan rubbed his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Clark said with a yawn before closing his eyes. He was beyond satisfied that it was coming to an end.

Jonathan left his son’s bedside and walked back towards the doorway. He looked and saw that Clark had turned his head over once more on his way to sleep. Jonathan’s smile had then morphed into a frown.

The rest of the night hadn’t gone easier. Clark lied upstairs fast asleep while Jonathan and Martha remained downstairs. Martha was sitting on the couch with a cup of sweet evening tea that she always loved making, even in times of conflict. Today was frightening enough. It was becoming more terrifying that the day of young Clark learning the truth may be coming nearer than they would ever hope. They hoped it wouldn’t ever come to this.

Jonathan kept pacing himself around the room with a look of uncertainty. “We can’t keep pretending like everything is fine, Martha. He told me that he wanted to be just like them.”

“What if he wants to, Jonathan?”

“But he isn’t.”

Martha’s expression told Jonathan that he should immediately regret that sentiment.

He did. “I mean . . .,” he lowered his tone and said, “sooner or later, we’re gonna have to tell him.”

“What are we supposed to say to him, Jonathan?” Martha said raising her voice. “That he’s not even one of us?”

Jonathan’s mouth squeezed tight before he hung his head and let out a solemn sigh. If it had to come to this, they might as well say that. That was the truth.

Martha had sensed her husband’s inner predicament as she looked up at him. She, too, felt it and dropped her defense. Jonathan was right. A broken arm by little to no effort wouldn’t be something so easily dismissed. It would be a first of inevitably more occurrences.

Jonathan sat himself beside her and folded his arms, resting them on his knees. “I’m worried about him, Martha. I’m worried about him, and I don’t know what to do. We have to tell him soon.”

Martha placed her teacup onto the table and rested herself onto her husband.

“I love you both,” Martha said serenely. “And I trust you with all my heart and soul.”

She paused herself before looking at her husband, who still looked lost.

“Remember when the doctor told me that I was infertile?” she asked. “I had never felt so lost in my whole life. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. But remember how you never left my side even if there was nothing you could do?”

Jonathan turned his head and looked into her eyes.

“There may not be an easy answer,” she continued as her eyes glistened. “There may not be an answer at all. But I knew that you were there.”

Jonathan turned his head and looked sincerely into her eyes. Those words were comforting enough. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before resting his head on it. “I love you,” he whispered.

Martha sighed deeply in content. “I love you too,” she replied.

Martha then paused again for a moment, unable to disregard their son’s actions anymore. Conceding, she said, “you’re right. We’ll tell him soon. And when we do, we’ll be there.”

Jonathan and Martha spent at least the next half an hour on the couch. The perfect comfort they were giving each other and the sound of outside crickets singing them a soothing melody made it impossible for them to move from their spot. The couple didn’t say anything more to each other as they leaned on each other. While they had been at ease, they had silently thought about Clark, tracing all the way back to when they first met him on that night just only fifty yards from where they were. How Jonathan remembered how Martha felt the happiest in her entire life since he’d known her.

It was about ten o’clock when Martha kept falling asleep. It was then when they had decided to head upstairs.

The rest of the weekend had seemed to go back to normal. Clark had stuck to his usual morning chores with Jonathan. The springtime had given Jonathan and Clark a lot less time to do anything else other than working outside. Luckily, they kept taking water breaks every now and then. Martha made heavily sure of that. That entire period would end at about noon when the three of them would head into a diner out in the downtown area.

The downtown area hadn’t been all that large since Clark can remember. Its small-town attire had held a nostalgic charm in the memories of his childhood. Its main street consisted of several diners, pharmacies and small shops which ran parallel on opposite sides of the street. On a corner, there would be either a church or a car repair shop. Above everything else had been a cloudless bright blue sky that sent a spring warmth. On any other days, Clark would walk along the road glancing and browsing at the nearby shops that would occasionally grab his attention depending on what was displayed out of the front windows. He’d also play at the playground while Martha watched him and Jonathan either joined them or completed their shopping.

As the Kents went out to lunch, Jonathan and Martha had been normally greeted by so many town locals as they were one of the more respected farmers out in the countryside. Clark had also received that kind of attention from his parents’ friends. They were anticipated about the child of the Kents despite that they were never told about their secret or Martha’s disability to bear children.

When the Kents returned to the farm, they had continued their daily routine of caring for the fields, feeding the barn animals and of course, taking their water breaks that Martha refused to let them forget. However, one thing had seemed amiss lately.

Clark never got all that tired from staying under the hot sun while working for hours from what seemed like a lifetime for the Kents. Jonathan had admitted that his age was catching up to him, and he wouldn’t have as much endurance as Clark, but both he and Martha were astounded by their son’s fortitude. While he did certainly perspire under the sun’s sizzling gaze, he wasn’t tired. In fact, it barely felt like work to him. He had assumed that he would’ve been used to this since he has reached a time at his age where strength would’ve come naturally to him among other things. Clark already had been taught sexual education and did receive the ever so uncomfortable talk from his parents. He had assumed that this was part of this newfound stamina, to which his parents agreed.

The rest of the weekend went smoothly as it progressed to Sunday. Clark had finished his homework for the weekend whilst getting ready for those stupid exams that would be coming up. Thankfully, he had all the help he could get from teachers as well as his parents who would sometimes stay up late at night and help him memorize mathematical equations and scientific facts. Dinner went by smoothly that evening and the Kents shared a nice big meal as Martha felt like the men in her family deserved it for working so much around the house.

Hours passed, and dusk completely silenced the sunlight. The day was nearly over, but the memories of the incident with Pete that haunted Clark began to surface once again. All the other kids were there too. He never had a chance to watch their reactions about the whole incident, but it was obvious that any chance of having more social hangouts would be depleted. What would Lana think now? What would _Pete_ think now? Pete would be _terrified_ if he saw him again . . .

As the endless scenarios played in his head, exhaustion began to successfully affect him. It had seemed like a long weekend after all. He was so thankful for that, and sleep consumed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Monday morning began its day as any other. After getting ready, Clark had stood outside and waited for the bus to arrive, now feeling more anxious than he did last night. Sooner or later, the bus would come, and he would have to face Lana, who he had no idea would react to him if she ever saw him again. A dark cloud had loomed over him as the negative fantasies echoed in his mind. He had wondered if what happened on Friday afternoon would’ve blown his chances of hanging out with them or anyone again.

Before he could think too much, he heard the sound of gravel being crushed under big rubber tires. He looked up but he didn’t see a bus coming. Nothing but an empty peaceful field under another pleasant bright Monday morning that had only begun. No car had been approaching and the Kents’ truck had not moved or started for anything. His breathing accelerated as the sound kept irritating him without showing itself. It was fairly loud now as if the bus had been right in front of him. He exhaled sharply trying to find its location. Seconds of excruciating hysteria forced him to begin covering his own ears, wondering where the heck was the bus.

The sound had not wavered, but the bus had finally made itself within Clark’s view. It was still as loud as it made its way over to his direction. Was there something wrong with the tire or engine? Surely, they wouldn’t let a faulty bus take kids to school, would they? A few seconds had passed, and the bus had stopped in front of him before opening its doors. Clark hopped onboard and faced the inevitable.

To his surprise, he hadn’t seen any looks of resentment from the other kids. They all had acted as if it was a Monday morning on a school bus enthusiastic for the upcoming summer. So far, so good—that is until the familiar red-haired girl had been spotted.

Lana had been sitting near the back. Clark felt a shiver run through him. Before he could shift himself to try and avoid her sight, she caught him. She smiled at him.

_A smile. That's a good sign._

Feeling the awkwardness take control, Clark had approached her. Her expression told him that all had been well, but he didn’t quite have the courage to sit next to her.

Clark asked as he sat at an empty seat across from her. He decided to speak first to hide the tension. “Hey, uh, how’s Pete?”

“He’s doing fine,” Lana said simply, her voice having no indication of fear.

Clark’s eyes beamed. “Really?”

“Well . . .,” she then chuckled to herself. Knowing Pete, she was relieved. “He was actually impressed. He bragged about you and how you were like the ‘Fridge’.”

Clark squinted. “The what?”

“Never mind,” she shook her head, still smiling. “He’s doing fine. He’s still coming to school.”

“He is?” Clark asked nervously, trying to hide the insinuation. “Well, that’s good,” he recovered.

“Yeah.” She then looked at him. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” Clark answered as best as he could with honesty. “Great.”

 _Great?_ That’s how any liar would finish a sentence!

“So,” Clark tried to retract but knew it was failing. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she replied simply.

Clark decided to say nothing else and nodded enthusiastically. Nothing else was much said afterward. He refused to look upward at any other classmate. He could sense the stares and gossip all around him. It was going to be a long day . . .

Kids had poured out of the bus with only Lana and Clark following from the rear portion of the formation. Lana stepped ahead of him and continued after him presumably to be with her friends. That had only made Clark frown. He was hoping that Lana would be as close to him as before it only seemed like she was distancing herself from him. Shaking that thought out of his head, he had proceeded through the doors of the school.

The hallways were scrambling with people as everyone was trying to reach their designated first class, despite that the bell hadn’t even run yet. Clark had walked casually by himself as he passed by other students who were busy with their locker, hurrying to their destination or boys standing to talk to girls, who were either interested or grimaced by their conversations.

As he turned a hallway, he swallowed. Pete Ross was centered around many other students. Clark winced as he noticed the cast on Pete’s arm. He shifted himself to the opposite side of the hallway, hoping that he wouldn’t be seen, but Clark had apparently become famous.

“Hey, Kent!” Pete called as his face lit up, waving his free hand. “Get over here!”

Clark’s face flushed as he froze in place. Pete exchanged a few words with his other friends, who then looked at Clark and seemed to be wowing in amazement.

Clark obeyed and kept his head down as he had approached.

“Hey, Pete,” Clark uttered trying to sound friendly. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine, man,” he answered. Clark was surprised as Pete answered in excitement than resentment. Pete turned his head towards everyone else, shouting giddily, “Man, you shoulda seen it! Tried to tackle him and he broke my arm! It was awesome!”

Clark then wore a face that had wondered if Pete had just listened to what he just said.

“It’s alright, Kent,” Pete boasted, “everyone’s been all over me. Wanna sign my cast?”

Clark looked at the white gauze around Pete’s arm. Already it has several signatures in different colors that were either sincere or obscene. He grimaced as he felt that he didn’t deserve to write anything on something that he had been responsible for. Then again, Pete had asked as a friendly gesture. And Clark was more well-known now.

Clark’s vision turned wavy and became a bright shade of blue. He blinked rapidly, thinking that he must’ve had something in his eye. The wavy sight had only receded, but it had picked up again. This time, the shade of blue was now taking over. He jerked his head and rubbed his eyes hoping that that would quell it, but everything was the same. His eyes widened and his lips parted as what he was witnessing. He looked at Pete’s cast. Only, he no longer saw the white gauze and instead saw a fractured skeletal bone. It was impossible, but he was looking at Pete’s skeletal arm. Clark’s eyes then darted at Pete’s face and let out a gasp.

He wasn’t looking at Pete’s face. What took its place was a human skull. Pete’s face was barely visible, but it gradually faded in and out.

The skull spoke, “Kent, you alright?”

Clark’s eyes shot everywhere, and he had nearly screamed.

He had been surrounded by skeletons, all who were looking at him. They all had blue auras surrounding them and the wavy filter in Clark’s eyesight had given him a frightening visual.

Clark blinked rapidly. Something had to have been in his eye. This was way too bizarre to be real. The skeletons then faded away, only to make way for the transparent view of body muscles being exposed. His stomach churned, looking at their eye sockets that had fully exposed wide eyes that peeked behind the view of the skeletons that wanted to appear again.

This is a dream. He has to be in a dream. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently to ignite a headache and started backing away from where Pete had been standing.

“Kent?” Pete’s skull spoke again. “Hey, Kent. You okay?”

Clark’s answer had only been shaky breaths with a white face of horror.

He then turned around and started running, not caring about what the others were thinking. Opening his eyes to know his path, his eyes darted around him. All around him was the same shade of pale blue and he saw more skeletons, all with exposed muscles that faded in and out of existence at no rhythmic pace. The lack of eyelids produced dark empty sockets with stretched out jaws leered at him with no emotion.

Fear had given him more speed as found an empty corner to turn to. After turning an unoccupied corner, Clark backed himself against the wall that faced away from any crowd. His knees buckled as his upper body slid down the wall until he sat on the cold tiled floor with his face buried in his hands, trying to process what just happened. He rocked back and forth, hoping that what he had been seeing would be extinguished. This was a dream. He had to be dreaming.

He opened his eyes and the wavy blue lighted vision had not changed. It was still fading in and out as he saw more than just school walls; he was seeing classrooms as if there were no walls. All around him, he saw that the school was completely visible to him. Every room was noticeable, and he even saw people walking through as if nothing was wrong. Even worse, they were fading into skeletons. Angrily, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and bared his teeth, straining. He had to get rid of it somehow. He opened his eyes.

Clark’s eyesight was no longer blue.

The walls were solid and no skeletons. Everything was as should be. Though there was another disgusting oddity—everything had been red as if looking through a scarlet see-through glass. This new quandary widened his eyes in an unpleasant surprise. As he paused at this new peculiarity, his view had been focusing on a wooden door that led to a classroom. His eyes felt extremely warm. It wasn’t a scalding sensation, but he could feel a minor heat rising from within his sockets.

Before Clark could explore everything else with this red image, a flame had appeared into existence and latched itself onto the wooden door before him.

Clark cried out as he saw the door being smothered by the embers that had appeared out of nowhere. Panic had punched the air through his stomach, and he shouted, “fire! Fire!”

Screams had soon followed along with faster paced sounds of sneakers smacking the floor. Clark soon joined them as he got himself off his feet and immediately bolted back to the hallway, where he met students and teachers running in several directions. Soon enough, the shrill screeching of the fire alarm reverberated through the hallways, giving Clark a tingling feeling in his eardrums. Clark sprinted and joined the hysterical sea of students running outside the building. Teachers cried out over the screams for everyone to stay calm and leave the building in an orderly fashion as they all did during fire drills.

Several crossing guards had been helping students exit the building as murky smoke started pouring from the building. In the back of Clark’s state of absolute fear, he was thankful that it happened before the school hours had begun and a handful of students hadn’t arrived yet. He saw that already several students who had just arrived backed away as a yellow light within the school had brightened from where the fires had sparked.

Firetruck sirens blared, making Clark jump. Soon enough, several firemen had dispersed from the red truck and shouted instructions for people to stay away from the building. In all his years, Clark thought and hoped that he would never have to see the day when there would’ve been a real fire at the school. All those school drills would never prepare for a sight like this.

The agonizing memories in his head had drained his lungs, and he couldn’t stop reliving the moment right before the fire had been triggered. His mind brought back the images of the skeletons he saw in the hallway before. It then brought him back to the moment of everything in his eyesight being in red light before the fire was triggered. Nothing about it had made sense. Nothing in the past several days made sense. He had broken someone’s arm without even trying and wasn’t even that muscular compared to the much more athletic students.

The entire world started losing focus around Clark as he turned around him. He knew within himself that this was all his fault. His chest turned death cold as his thoughts progressed to what his parents would say about all this.

A low moan had nearly escaped his lips as he saw a familiar truck pull up. It was fast enough that would excel a proper speed limit before it jolted to a stop right in front of him in the parking lot.

Martha opened the passenger door. “Clark? Honey, are you okay?” Her tone sounded concerned, albeit a hint of panic.

Clark saw the driver as his father, whose lips were parted in apprehension. He didn’t dare to move towards the truck now.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Martha said as she got out of the car. “Clark, honey, come here.”

Clark shook his head, searching for words to explain what was happening.

Jonathan leaned his head forward, so his head was more in clear view for Clark. “Come on,” he reiterated his wife. “Let’s go home.”

Clark protested. “But I didn’t do anythi—”

“Let’s go, Clark,” Jonathan insisted. “We’re going home.”

Defeated, Clark hung his head and obeyed. Martha exited the truck, allowing Clark to squeeze in between her and Jonathan. Martha then placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder as he continued hanging his head, unwilling to look upward at anything else. He kept wondering if his parents would then turn into the same kind of skeletons he saw earlier or worse—another fire that he would no doubt cause. Soon enough, the truck had left the school grounds and headed the way home.

Unable to stand the tension between his family, Clark broke the silence.

“Guys,” he said. “I did it, okay? It was me. But I swear I didn’t mean to. I just looked at something and the fire happened!”

“We know,” Martha said softly next to him.

“Something’s happening to me,” Clark continued as if he didn’t hear anything else. “Why is this happening to me?” he raised his voice. “Something is seriously wrong with me! I saw other peoples’ skeletons! I set a fire without even moving! I don’t know how I did it! What if I do that to you guys?”

Martha shushed and placed an arm around him. She then shot a look of worry to her husband, who reciprocated her expression. Jonathan nodded at her. There would be no use in hiding this any longer.

“I’m scared,” Clark spoke this time calmer.

Jonathan turned his eyes back on the road and swallowed, fighting back his emotions so he could speak lucidly. “Clark,” he spoke. His voice wasn’t raised. Nor did it sound coaxing. “There’s . . . there is something you need to see at home.” He sighed and swallowed yet again. “Something we probably should’ve shown you long ago.”

Clark’s forehead wrinkled. “What?”

Jonathan didn’t answer.

“What is it?” Clark pressed, now looking at Martha.

“Just wait, honey,” Martha assured. “We’re almost home.”

Clark couldn’t wait on something like that. He wanted to try asking again until he looked at his parents who were stone-faced serious. He gave up and returned to his defeated head hanging stance. Something that should’ve been shown long ago only churned Clark’s stomach for something maybe even worse than what he had already experienced in the past several days.

What he had just heard didn’t bring him much comfort on the rest of the ride home.

When the Kents arrived back on the farm, Jonathan didn’t park at the usual spot which was a few meters away from the side of the house. Clark felt a knot in his stomach as Jonathan steered the truck a couple of meters away from the barn instead. Jonathan was first to get out while Martha exited the truck as well.

Clark detected a curious expression from his parents. They didn’t look angry, at least. Though, they wore the same face as he remembered when Jonathan drove them home on Friday afternoon. That same mysterious look of gloom. As she got her feet on the grassy floor, Martha turned around and her eyes had a hard lock on Clark’s.

“Follow us,” she said with a hint of despondency.

Clark didn’t hesitate and obeyed. From what he could tell, they were at least going to tell him something, though it wouldn’t have killed them to say anything right now.

He followed Martha as Jonathan was waiting for them patiently until they caught up with him at the large door to the barn.

Jonathan then pressed the barn door open and the three entered. Martha then walked ahead of Clark, who remained just about a meter ahead of the door, feeling the anticipation painfully freeze the inside of his chest.

“So, what is it?” he said.

No answer was uttered as Jonathan and Martha proceeded to the center of the room while Clark kept an anticipated and unshakable gaze at his parents. He had never seen them look so worried in his life. Clark received an unnatural numbness that swept over him.

Jonathan then kicked away some of the hay straws right at the center, until a metal lock emerged from the golden straw ground. He then knelt and with both hands, unlatched the lock and pulled on it. A large wooden trapdoor revealed itself, rising from the haw straws. As the trapdoor flipped over to its fully opened position, Jonathan looked back at Clark and wore a face of deep regret.

“Come here,” he spoke gently, gesturing a commanding hand.

Clark swallowed, preparing himself before he complied. As he approached his father, he looked at Martha, who stood looking melancholy. Whatever they wanted to show him was becoming more and more unsettling.

Clark then shifted his eyesight into the inside of the trapdoor that led into the earth. Thankfully, the sun had been bright enough to shine light through the spaces of the wooden boards of the barn to reveal what was inside. As Clark got to where Jonathan was, he saw it.

From what he was seeing, there was a large metallic object that had been placed inside. It had a massive oval shape and there were strange looking symbols inscribed on the shiny surface. The metal had slight hints of rust, giving an impression that this thing must’ve been here for years. He was surprised to see that such a large object was able to fit in through the door, though the amount of space in the cellar was perfect for it.

Clark’s eyes widened in amazement. “Whoa,” he whispered. He turned his head to Jonathan. “What is it?”

Jonathan inhaled through his nose. “From what we could tell, it was a rocket.”

“Well,” Clark stuttered still amazed, “yeah, obviously. But where it’d come from? Are you guys, like, scientists or something? Wait, did you guys experiment on me or something?”

“No,” Martha exhaled. If only. . .

“You see,” Jonathan spoke as if he didn’t hear Clark’s suggestion. “Clark . . . years ago, this rocket came out of the sky one night. And it landed right here in our own front yard. We had no idea where it came from.”

Martha grimaced and hung her head, blinking back upcoming tears.

Jonathan took a long and deep breath. “We found you in it.”

Clark’s lips parted as he felt like his heart had stopped beating. What he had just heard couldn’t have been right. He squeezed his eyebrows together, shaking his head. “You _found_ me in it?”

“Every night,” Martha said, making Clark face her, “we had prayed for a child.” She wiped her nose with her arm. “And one night, our prayers were answered,” she said as the corners of her mouth stretched, holding back the emotion.

Clark squeezed his eyebrows together again and looked back at the rocket. Found him in this? What was that supposed to mean? What are they talking about?

“But I _am_ your child, aren’t I?” Clark said, trailing the question.

He leaned forward and carefully eyed the rocket that he was “found in”. Upon closer inspection, the symbols didn’t look like any other language to his knowledge. It didn’t look like hieroglyphs he recognized from his history classes he did well in.

It was still intriguing. The symbols that covered the sides were placed in an aesthetic layout. They intersected in several positions and the engravings were immaculate with clean and precise edges. The rocket still had a clean metal coat around it and there was no sign of rust or any sign of decay. If the rocket was held down in there for so long, then the material for it must be really durable.

Curious, he reached his hand out and placed a flat palm on the metallic surface of the rocket. It was a cooling sensation.

The rocket glowed.

A low humming was heard, and the rocket radiated a blue and white soothing aura.

Clark let out a cry of surprise as Martha, on instinct, ran at her son hoping to grab him away from the rocket. Jonathan stepped backward.

A metallic voice had spoken. It sounded human, but the words didn’t sound like anything the Kents had ever heard of. Their eyes widened as they watched the rocket glow and the voice continued. What had caught them by surprise is that the voice did say the word, “Earth”, but the kind of language they were hearing didn’t sound exactly European, or Chinese, or maybe Russian—

“Translation completed,” the voice suddenly spoke that made the Kents blink.

“Message will now commence for Kal-El,” the voice said.

“Jonathan, what’s happening?” Martha exclaimed.

In a split second, the Kents had noticed that a tiny slot on the side of the rocket opened. They had little to no time to see that a tiny silver box had been within the slot before a snapping hiss sound screeched. Above the silver box, a light shot up and a projection of two human-looking figures had emerged into existence.

Their projection created a dark blue aura in the barn. There was a man and a woman. Both of them were wearing strange looking white robes that stretched down to just above their ankles. Both of their robes had a large diamond pentagon on their chests. Inside the pentagons was a very peculiar “S” shape. Their expressions had dignified and modest faces that insinuated loyalty as if they were ancient sculptures.

The Kents turned from dreadful surprise to curious scrutinization as they saw them.

“Greetings, my son,” the man said spoke in a deep and incisive voice that almost made the Kents flinch. “I am Jor-El. I am your father.” The man then turned to the woman, who hadn’t changed her face. “This is Lara Lor-Van. This is your mother.”

Clark’s face had deadened into a frigid whiteness as he processed what he was hearing. He looked at Jonathan and Martha, who both had expressions of defeat as the image of the man before them was speaking the truth.

“Mom?” Clark uttered as he looked at Martha. Her expression was deeply saddened while horrified to see this strange looking object was finally answering her questions that she had after all these years.

The man had continued as if there was no one there and without emotion. “By the time you hear this, Kal, we are inevitably no longer by your side. Let it be known that our deaths were not in vain as your survival was our priority. You were not born on this planet that has been established as ‘Earth’. You were born in a faraway world called Krypton—a world of great scientific achievements and moral society. Unfortunately, it has also become a world of great tragedy. Our fates were sealed because of my failure. And for that, I am deeply sorry that you had to find out this way, Kal. I couldn’t save the world that we promised you, but we could save you. The contents within this emergency shuttle you arrived in contains everything I can give you from the House of El. Rest assured, Kal, you were not sent here without reason. Before our planet’s destruction, the planet, Earth, was classified as inhabitable for Kryptonians. You will be protected with abilities that Earth’s environment will provide for you. The Earth’s sun is a G-type Star, which will naturally modify and enhance Kryptonian body cells. You will have the strength beyond that of any normal man. You will be free to live among humans, but you mustn’t forget that while you look like them, you are not one of them . . .”

The rest of the man’s words had been drowned by a buzzing noise that rang through Clarks’ ears. He felt his lungs pumping erratically. He breathed fast gasps and his eyes darted everywhere. His head swiveled, unwilling to accept anything he was being told.

This was ridiculous. This entire day is nothing but an elaborate nightmare. He would wake up and he’d be in bed, and the day would reset to something more logical. His name isn’t “Kal”. It’s Clark Kent. He’s a boy from Kansas who goes to a small town junior high school. Not some. . . some. . . _freak._

He looked at his parents who just looked back at him with watery eyes. The more he looked into their eyes, the more he realized that that’s not something he would find fake in his own mind.

“No,” Clark’s voice quivered. “No. No. No.” His mantra went on and he kept shaking his head as he felt a lump in his throat rising.

“Oh, God,” Martha choked as she approached him slowly. “Sweetie.”

Clark’s face began to burn. His eyes and cheeks reddened, feeling the negative passion take control of him. “ _Why’d you show me that?_ ”

Martha flinched in horror.

He gritted his teeth as his eyes leaked. “This isn’t true! _It’s not true!_

Squeezing his eyes shut, Clark dashed away from the rocket and headed out of the barn. Jonathan called out to him and Martha’s emotions took her balance, bending her over.

Clark’s mind had been tugged in more directions than he could ever think of. He ran out into the front yard, where he was supposedly “found” and not in a hospital as he had been told for the past twelve years. He changed his direction to separate himself from the house that he grew up in and started towards the cornfield.

As he made his way into the tall green maze, he no longer knew his direction. As long as he didn’t face anything he already knew and had been lied about it didn’t matter. Nothing else did.

Clark only made it a few yards before his foot got caught in a pile of fallen corn husks, disrupting his fleeing. With no focus on his balance and the blurring images of cornstalks whizzing by, Clark fell face down onto the dirt ground. As his front made a harsh contact with the ground, stress had drained him, and he didn’t even try getting back up. His facedown position had muffled the angry cries as Jonathan approached him.

“Clark!” he shouted in relief that he hadn’t gone far away and worried that he might be hurt.

Noticing his son’s condition, he slowed himself down and moved through the thick cornstalks. As he got to where his son was lying, he knelt beside him and placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder. Jonathan desperately searched in his mind for the right thing to say. He and Martha always had a way of explaining things to the boy. Only this time, the truth was far more brutally incontrovertible than anything they had encountered.

Swallowing, Jonathan said, “I’m so sorry.”

Clark lifted his head steadily and looked at the man who had pretended to be his father. “W . . .,” he breathed. “why did you show me that?”

Before Jonathan could answer, Clark spoke again, “I don’t want to be anyone else,” he said as he broke into another sob. He buried his head into Jonathan’s stomach and wrapped his arms around him. Jonathan returned the favor and embraced him tightly, feeling Clark’s emotions channel through him.

“I wanted to show you because . . .,” Jonathan answered as he felt the tears forming, “you were so scared. To help you understand why you’re different from the other kids.”

“I don’t want to be different!” Clark cried through clenched teeth. “I’m not a freak! I want to be just like them! I want to be your son!”

Jonathan held Clark’s head onto his shoulder as tightly as he could. “Oh, Clark,” he sobbed. “You _are_ my son.”

Martha made her way to just outside the cornfield, but she could make out her family’s location. She saw Jonathan kneeling on one knee, holding onto the distraught child they had promised to take in. Exhaling in sadness, she walked over to them and knelt for Clark, adjacent from where Jonathan was. She joined her family’s embrace as Clark continued sniffling.

“. . . great many tragedies had befallen on your home planet before our final fate,” the blue lighted Jor-El said as the Kents continued listening in the barn. Clark blinked rapidly to ease the burn in his red eyes. “Our fair capital city, Kandor, was a grand metropolis, courtesy of the many guilds from where you are from as well as your ancestors from the House of El,” he gestured at the “S” shape on his chest. “My biggest regret is that you never got to see it.”

Still depressed, Clark only closed his eyes in a silent sigh. For every passing minute this message was playing, the more questions that were conjured from these newfound discoveries.

“Though, I am unable to see you today, my son, I do have one request—live among them, Kal-El. There, discover where your enhanced Kryptonian body will be needed most. While you may hold Earth’s customs, I must ask you to always hold the pride of your heritage in your heart. We’ve strived for thousands of generations for the ideals that have shaped our world in the name of truth and justice. I must ask you to do the same. No matter where you go, Kal-El, you will always carry our strength in you. Never forget that. Even in death, we love you, son.”

Two seconds later, the snap-hiss sound the silver box made earlier happened again, and the figures of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van vanished back into the box.

Clark’s face had a mixture of awe and melancholy. The feeling of Martha’s hand on his shoulder brought him only a sliver of warmth.

“Have you guys seen this before?” he asked.

“No,” Jonathan answered. “We only found you in the rocket. We didn’t know anything else until now.”

Clark took another deep breath as Martha continued rubbing her hand on his shoulder. “So,” he sniffled, trying to sound confident, “I’m, uh . . . an alien, huh?”

“Oh, honey,” Martha answered, “You’re very special.”

“Stop calling me that,” Clark said. “I’m . . .,” Clark’s eyes lowered and searched. He exhaled. “I don’t even know.”

“Your birth parents sound like they really loved you, Clark” Jonathan said.

“‘Clark’”, he grimaced at his name. “That’s not even my real name. They’re calling me Kal-El, and you’re calling me Clark.”

“You can choose whatever name you want, sweetie,” Martha calmed. She lowered herself so her head was next to his. “Honey, you have to understand something: as far as I’m concerned, your birth parents loved you very much. And I think they would’ve given you a great life. But they sent you here for a reason. They knew that you would be safe here.”

“Clark,” Jonathan spoke. His tone suggested something gloomy ahead. “From what they said, you have been . . . gifted with things. Things . . . that the other kids can’t do.”

“Yeah?” Clark replied humbly.

“Which is why,” Jonathan continued, “we have to tell you something.”

“What?”

Jonathan hesitated. He hated to bring up a memory that Clark wanted to not relive.

“Earlier today . . . when we found out the school was on fire, we had assumed . . . that you did something.”

Clark was about to speak in protest.

Jonathan caught him. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Yes,” Clark pressed.

“That is why I want you to be careful. You see, Clark . . . from what we’ve seen, you’re capable of great things. But you have to know how to control it.”

“But I don’t know how,” Clark said worriedly.

“We’ll help you,” Martha said.

“And if your birth parents said that you’ve been ‘enhanced’,” Jonathan added, “then you have to keep this side of yourself a secret.”

“Are you saying I should hide myself for the rest of my life?” Clark asked, wondering if that is what Jonathan was intimating.

“No,” Jonathan said quickly before speaking slowly again. “You see, Clark, if not handled carefully, something like today could happen. And I know that was before you knew about yourself. But you know now. And now that you do, you have to figure out what you can do and how you do it. And Clark . . . this is also important.”

Jonathan paused before he proceeded.

“People have never known someone like you before. There will be people who might be frightened of you.”

“But I don’t want that,” Clark answered hastily.

“I don’t want that either,” Jonathan resumed. “And I know this was all too much for you to take in right now. You’re still young. But I feel like your birth parents had the idea that you can do great things. Things for other people, not _to_ other people. And one day, Clark, you’re gonna have to make a choice.”

“What choice?”

“To stand proud for other people,” Jonathan answered. “To be the best you can be.”

Clark turned his head slowly away in a very pensive manner.

“Well,” Clark thought, “guess that eliminates being a football star athlete, huh?” he weakly chuckled.

Seeing Clark’s attempt at levity under the circumstances made Jonathan’s corners of his mouth stretch.

“You don’t have to be an athlete,” Martha said simply. “You can be whatever you want to be . . . you know, as long as it doesn’t involve anything physical”.

“Look, guys,” Clark said, “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but . . .” he sighed, “I don’t know what to think about all this. I mean, I just set my school on fire and then I found out that I’m some sort of alien from outer space.”

Clark sat himself up, releasing himself of Martha’s touch. “It’s like my whole life has already been told what it should be.”

“It’s your choice, Clark,” Jonathan said simply. “You don’t have to be. You can still be whoever you want to be. But I’m telling you this—if you choose to be someone to stand tall and proud for other people, it’s a big responsibility. And that won’t be something that can be erased. Right now, you’re too young for something like that. But there will come a day, Clark.”

“And no matter what,” Martha added, “we’re going to be there for you.”

Clark sighed and looked at his parents—or rather, the parents who told him that he was born in a hospital where Jonathan had to wait for hours before he was delivered while Martha was in labor. They were complete strangers his entire life. Then again, he looked into the same eyes that had always cared for him since he could remember.

“Sounds like you guys had been preparing for something like this for a while,” he said in a low tone. “Are you okay with this?”

“Of course, we are,” Martha answered sincerely.

Jonathan walked closer to his family. “So, let’s begin.”


	6. Chapter 6

For many days and nights, Clark barely said anything. The message from “Jor-El” wouldn’t leave him in peace. He couldn’t eat only except when he really needed to. Sleep wasn’t easy for too long, it seemed like a lifetime. Time appeared to be frozen; the warm daylights and breezy evenings had no impact.

By the time it reached the third week after his discovery, he did feel a curiosity rise in him. If he had the power to endure the hottest days while out doing chores, could he also run for days without feeling exhaustion? Making fire by just looking, seeing skeletons, what else was there?

Nearly every weekend when homework was out of the way, of course, Clark would spend time out in the field with his parents trying to figure out what else there was to him. His high endurance did give him an idea that he also had extraordinary strength. The Kents figured that one out when he lifted their tractor with one hand while trying to retrieve a baseball from underneath. It felt incredibly easy as if lifting an empty kiddie stool.

When it came to the fire and the skeleton-seeing vision, that was tough to figure out. Clark tried all sorts of things to do with his eyes. He had thought the x-ray vision—as he called it—had to do with emotion, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t until he had made a simple flex of his eyes that made everything Clark was seeing to turn to a blue light and he saw the skeletal versions of Jonathan and Martha. It was scary and somewhat fun to see their skeletal versions until he looked again—and immediately looked away as he recently discovered that with enough concentration, he could also see through clothes . . .

The fire was the hardest to control. Clark had to really concentrate hard to make sure. The Kents decided to take Clark out in the middle of the field and away from the house and barn. Clark would bring out a worn-out tractor out in the middle of the field as Jonathan and Martha would watch. Thankfully, the engine had been removed for any potential explosions. Clark tried to remember what it was like when he set the school on fire. After shaking that trauma, he remembered the kind of feeling his eyes made when everything went red. It was almost different than the “x-ray vision”, but it worked once Clark’s eyesight went red. He felt his eyes warm up almost immediately, but it didn’t feel as hot as it was back at the school. He worked more on the feeling until he came to realize that it had much more to do with emotion than the x-ray vision, which was more relevant to the manipulation of his eyes. The heat had to do more with a focused sense of anger. Once he exploited that emotion, it got easier and easier. With each use, Clark was able to have better control over the heat. Soon enough, there were numerous burn marks on the used tractor as if a powerful laser was able to slightly permeate through the old metal. Jonathan and Martha couldn’t see a beam of light, but they were able to make out the ripples in the air coming from Clark’s red-lighted eyes.

One day while testing in the barn, Clark made a straight line while trying to get a better handle while trying to make basic shapes. While he could make straight lines, he decided to work on circles. Something less angular was difficult to work with, as he tried to maintain the concentration and how much it would affect his handle. Unfortunately, he didn’t count on splitting the alien rocket in half. In a chilling moment of panic, Clark ceased himself and stared at the rocket. There were no scorch marks whatsoever. The metal had remained shimmering since the day he first discovered it.

Clark growled. “It’s too hard.”

Martha came to his aid and took notice that the glass shards were also unaffected. There were still pieces of glass within the rocket’s seat where she had found him. Taking the opportunity, she marched herself straight back into the house with an idea.

Shortly after, she returned outside with a pair of glasses. The rims were the same design that belonged to Jonathan, who wore them in his earlier years. Martha had taken two shards and managed to painstakingly fit them into the rims. When Clark wore them, Martha instructed him to try and conduct a fire once more. As she anticipated, the heat wouldn’t activate. A lucky bonus was that no matter how hard Clark flexed his eyes, he couldn’t utilize his x-ray vision.

It was then decided that the glasses would be the tool to quell any inadvertent use of what his eyes were capable of. Jonathan and Martha stressed Clark to no end that he should never—under any circumstances—lose those glasses . . . After that solution, Clark continued practicing the use of his eyes. It had been about a month and a half later until he had mastered on keeping his heat vision to a certain temperature as well prolonging it.

About a month afterward, Clark found another amazing discovery about himself. It had happened when the Kents were on their way home from another weekend trip to the downtown area. Traffic was little to none. The day hadn’t been sunny in the least. There were several reports and warnings that severe rainstorms, as well as other weather-related hazards, were imminent, but that didn’t stop the Kents from their regular outing. Different shades of grey clouds had blanketed the sun’s bright encirclement on the Kansas’ open fields. The entire environment’s color had turned to a dull mix of blue and green. Thin white branches of electricity flashed in a blink. Soon enough, the smacking of raindrops assaulted the windshield, prompting the wipers from Jonathan. Dread had gripped the Kents’ stomachs, fearing the worst as they looked outside to their surroundings, particularly where there was lightning bolts.

Their fears were confirmed once they saw the clouds ahead of them for only a few yards started to form a lump from its underside. Lightning crackled, heralding the next phase. The smoggy appendage had a noticeable swirling motion. A couple seconds followed, and the vortex stretched downwards and touched the ground, expelling a steam of light fog where it touched.

Jonathan turned the steering wheel as hard as he could without thinking. His foot never left the gas pedal. The tires squeaked along the slick wet asphalt, and the truck began swaying left and right at an uncontrollable pace. Jonathan tugged at the steering wheel, but the lack of traction wouldn’t save him. The Kents let out horrified cries as the truck’s unstable path was still leading them to the cloudy vortex.

Finally, the truck came to a halt as Jonathan’s foot found the brakes. The fast winds painfully rung through their ears, but they could still see the tornado barreling towards them.

“Get out!” Jonathan screamed.

Clark and Martha had already jiggled the door handle before hastily exiting the truck. Fear took hold of Clark and forced his hand to hold onto Martha’s shirt from behind. Martha returned the favor and wrapped a secure arm around him, ducking their heads from the eye-stinging rain and wind. Jonathan had caught up with them, but the tornado was picking up speed.

Clark looked behind him and let out a cry of dreaded surprise. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as the wet wind stung his face. Tightening his grip around his parent, he increased the muscle power in his legs, hoping that his alien biology would allow him to outrun such a force of nature.

Clark no longer felt his feet pounding the wet ground. His body shivered in terror. Even with someone with high endurance and unnatural strength, he found himself to be no match for the tornado’s monstrous pull. He let out a scream, along with his parents who made hysterical cries.

The stinging rain had softened. The tornado’s howl died, but there was still strong wind gusting his hair backward harshly. Everything had calmed. Whatever it was didn’t feel like a tornado anymore.

Clark opened his eyes as everything around him relaxed, save for the wind that he felt blowing in his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped as looked ahead of him. Clark, who was holding onto his parents in one in each arm, was no longer on the ground, indeed. But he was mesmerized that he was above the ground and moving forward, away from the tornado. He saw that he and his parents were getting higher and higher off the ground until he could be at the same height of the tall trees that were further away.

“Oh, my God!” Clark cried as his face unchanged as he searched below him.

“You can _fly_?” Martha cried as her face matched Clark’s.

“Clark, you're _flying_!” Jonathan yelled as he had a mix of amazement and fright.

“How do I control this?” Clark yelled out loud.

His altitude stumbled. The Kents lost a couple of yards in a jolting drop. Clark yelped as they started darting downwards.

Their screams kicked up again. Soon enough, the Kents sharply descended. Instinctively, Clark tried his body the same way he had practiced on his eyes. He wondered if tightening his muscles would be a way of steering himself.

It had only worked a little and the Kents then took a slow ascent. By now, they had reached an empty grassy field, far away from where they should have been killed.

Clark tried again, and only a sliver of altitude was gained.

“Clark!” Jonathan yelled.

Panicking, Clark tried swinging his legs ahead of him to try and get him to land on his feet. He kicked his legs, hoping to get some traction once he hit the ground. His legs had only missed the ground by at least a dozen inches.

He tried again. As his feet hit the ground, Clark kicked his legs again and they propelled himself forward. He ran for a couple of yards before letting go of his parents and he, himself, fell forward back on the ground. Clark got up immediately and ran towards his parents, who slowly got themselves up. "Are you okay?" he said fearfully. Jonathan and Martha rolled over; groaning as they placed themselves on their sides and faced Clark with mouth gaping astonishments while panting.

Clark's face went white as their eyes met his. "Nobody saw that, right?"' he said.

Jonathan’s only form of response was a wide-eyed stare as if in a trance before he turned to face him. "You can fly," he said as he was lost of what to think. He started wheezing out a bright and awed laugh, "You can fly!"

Clark felt the invitation from his father’s laughter. “That was awesome!”

Martha only giggled and shook her head.

“Mom, did you see that?” Clark reveled.

“That was great,” she said weakly before changing her tone. “Honey, you might want to ease your grip next time." She lifted her shirt revealing a purplish mark on her side.

“Er . . . sorry,” Clark winced. He still had to work on restraining on holding on someone too tight. “Wait,” he remembered. “Dad, the truck!”

Chuckling, Jonathan made a disregarding gesture with his hand. “Piece of shit, anyway.”

* * *

The following weekend, that entire experience gave Clark an urge to try flying along with the rest of his practices. As excited as he was to try it, a large part of him was hesitant. He wasn’t entirely comfortable after making that rough landing, not knowing what to do while in midair. When he was ready, the Kents decided it was best to try it at night when there was no one to witness it. They had been lucky that no one saw Clark flying that day, otherwise there would be too many questions to contain. Ultimately, it was decided that flying lessons would take place at midnight on weekends only, otherwise it'd interfere in Clark's curfew on school nights. Jonathan and Martha had arranged that he should start out by learning how he got in midair to begin with.

Clark tried tightening all his muscles in his body and crouched down for a jumping position, once he pushed himself upward, his feet left the earth. He stumbled a few times, but he was able to keep himself up in the air for longer periods of time for every attempt. He crashed a few times back on the ground, but his Kyryptonian body protected him from any damages from impact. He even got himself right above the barn, but he fell and crashed through. After the crash, he immediately wanted to try again as he exited through the barn doors as if falling through a wooden roof meant nothing. After trying again, Clark found that keeping his hands out in front of him made steering while in midair much easier as if steering a car. It had also helped him maintain his direction.

Once he got himself into the air without any further problems, he was tempted.

* * *

After a couple of months of adjusting to his newfound capabilities, Clark looked back into the rocket that he was sent from. Inside, he found several items. One was a miniature statue of a man, standing tall as if giving a command to a grand army. The man didn’t have any resemblance to Jor-El, but Clark saw that he did wear the same “S" shaped emblem that his real parents wore. After deducing that it was some sort of ancestor to the “House of El", Clark searched for more things that were found. He also found some clothes.

He saw three different kinds.

One was the same kind of robes Jor-El wore and one was more feminine that resembled the woman that Jor-El claimed to be his mother. Like the hologram that projected from the rocket, the clothes were white while bearing the “S" symbol.

Then, there was the third.

The third uniform was a vastly different color than the others. The third had a heavy emphasis on blue, save for the legs, below the knees. The boots were a brighter red and the “S" symbol was wide on the chest area. The “S" shape itself was red against a bright yellow background. The torso had several lines of blue and silver that stretched to behind the chest area. The tips of the sleeves had silver and blue cuffs. What was the most distinct about this uniform was that it bore a red cape that stretched all the way down to the red boots, somewhere between the calves and ankles.

Of all outfits found in the rocket, Clark found this one to be more appealing. Unfortunately, it was too big for him to try on. He had figured that this was meant for him personally, once he reached adulthood. Sighing disappointingly that he would have to wait, Clark put the blue uniform back in its place.

The years that had followed felt more different than ever for Clark. The discovery of what his parents had hidden in that barn for so many years conducted a series of events that moved Clark into solitude. There was a time when he talked to Lana nearly every morning. But as the days after the following week, he had drifted away from her with little to no words. He even found himself no longer having any kind of contact with Pete Ross, who eventually moved when high school came into their lives. Clark hadn’t heard from Lana ever since their high school years had ended. He wanted to hell himself that he didn’t feel guilty that he felt it was best for them, but that would’ve been a lie. It had been in fact painful. In the following grades, he tried his best to avoid making friends to lessen the chances of another incident. He figured it was best, yet there were nights when Clark spent several hours in his bedroom crying. He wanted to avoid them, but it felt so wrong. And unfair.

Upon graduating with a degree in journalism, opportunities for Clark moving away had broadened. There were several places that had open positions for reporters and journalists. At one point, he thought about becoming an anchorman for Smallville, but other places had offered much more money. He had thought about applying to Gotham, but the crime rates even put Detroit to shame, not to mention Martha’s “hell, no” comment on that possibility.

The reviews for the _Daily Planet_ in Metropolis, however, caught Clark's eye more than the others. The _Daily Planet_ had been one of the larger newspaper corporations than most of the others he worked for interns. The _Daily Planet_ did have much more positive ratings, except from larger corporations who had threatened to shut them down on numerous occasions. That gave Clark the idea that the more daring one place was, the more likely he would make to live out on his own in a big city.

Jonathan and Martha, on the other hand, were far more reluctant about the notion of their son living far away, surrounded by millions of people who had no idea who he really is. Clark had insisted that it would be best to be in a highly populated area, where he could blend in with a much larger crowd than a small-town area. In addition, Jonathan and Martha did assert that he should be in a career that was as successful as his college grades in journalism.

After months and months of dead ends and silent feedback on applications while staying in an apartment outside of Smallville, Clark ultimately decided to take the opportunity of becoming a reporter at the Daily Planet in Metropolis, Delaware, thousands of miles away from Kansas.

Moving had been an entire ordeal for Clark, as well as Jonathan and Martha, who provided extra cash, which Clark guiltily accepted with a forced smile. It was decided that the cheapest way possible was driving across the country rather than just taking a flight up in the northeastern states. Clark had contacted several places for U-Haul containers as well as other moving vans. His personal belongings were easy to fit in—mainly due to his Kryptonian strength. When the moving process happened, Clark tried to act normal and make it seem like the furniture was heavy. Carrying a bed on one side had been nothing, he was nearly tempted to move a chair with the other arm. He had restrained himself and tried to act fatigued like the other movers who were already sweating from the work and heat.

Once all had been placed in the U-Haul and his own car, Clark packed up everything. He drove by the Kent’s and retrieved only several items from the rocket. He had retrieved the miniature statue and the blue Kryptonian uniform that belonged to no one. Discreetly, he had thought about trying it on. He had wondered about being a service to other people while wearing it. If this was, in fact, passed down specifically for him, he was curious to see how other people would see him. Maybe if he did all these things that no one else could do while wearing it, people would be more welcoming to something like that more than an ordinary man in a shirt, shorts and a baseball cap. Just maybe . . . Then again, Clark fastened his focus on a more humanistic future with realistic goals—being a successful reporter at a network that's been established since the late 1930s. There would be no room for trying to live like a normal person among billions.

Shrugging the thought away, Clark smuggled the items from the rocket into his car, as he felt more secure if they were closer rather than a U-Haul truck.

As Clark made his farewell from his hometown, he started the long journey from Kansas and made his weeklong trip to the northeast of the United States.

* * *

Metropolis. The City of Tomorrow, it was called when it was first built back in the much older days. It was a lot more exhilarating than the online images Clark saw for background research. The golden plated skyscrapers had nearly touched the heavens in a bright gleam. The sun’s overhead watch granted the city an idyllic spirit that could bring a peaceful sensation to any onlooker or tourist. The sky was a naked bright day and a moderately warm temperature flowed through the streets.

Aside from the breathtaking view of the City of Tomorrow, there was the usual ambiance of any busy city in broad daylight; car horns would echo in the distance as people walked along the sidewalks or across the streets when the sign said they could.

Clark had been worried about that when he had first arrived, along with his U-Haul container, tailgated behind him. According to his GPS, he didn’t have to take any U-turns, much to his relieved satisfaction.

The rest of the trip delivered him in the suburbs of New Troy, the center borough of the city. There, Clark followed his destination which was 344 Clinton Street, the third floor of the large apartment complex, which was at least thirty minutes away from the rest of the crowded apartment. Some of the neighbors who lived rooms away didn't seem to be all that hostile. In fact, they didn’t seem all that lifelike either. Clark silently wondered if a mundane personality was better than a bad one at least. Those who did have a distinction introduced themselves to Clark. One was 

Room 3-D was large and fancy. There were rooms that would have enough space for several pieces of furniture. The kitchen was nice and spacious, and the master bedroom was large enough to have plenty of

The unpacking of his belongings took almost no time as he was able to lift with absolutely no difficulty. Then again, the angling and pivoting of his couch did take more unanticipated time than he was hoping for. . .

Once that was out of the way, Clark pulled out his brand-new Apple MacBook laptop that he purchased to get ready for the new job and laid it on his desk.

After completing his personal settings on the PC, he pulled out his phone, looking for a good place to grab a bite in the upcoming hours of dinnertime. Clark was thankful that he didn’t have to start until Monday, and the weekend had only just begun, giving plenty of time for exploration.

After a couple of hours of napping, he decided to take a walk outside onto Clinton Street and have a look at New Troy’s urban wonders. As he walked himself onto the busy streets, he got to a stopping place and saw the Daily Planet from a distance.

The Daily Planet’s structure stuck out from all its surrounding buildings as it loomed over its fellow towers. The biggest distinctive feature of it all was the large golden sculpture of a sphere with the words “DAILY PLANET” ringing around it like a replica of Saturn.

Along the other tall skyscrapers was the largest corporation in the city as well as one of the largest in the world, was LexCorp Tower, which stood tall, almost as if competing with the Daily Planet itself. From what Clark read about the history of the Daily Planet, LexCorp owned a substantial portion of the businesses in Metropolis but wasn’t able to obtain the Daily Planet for unknown reasons. It certainly was a different place than what Clark had been used to back home, where it was only roads, surrounded by fields and an occasional gas station at corners.

In that time of exploration, there were several tourist spots that he had been interested in ever since he researched several aspects about Metropolis. He visited the city’s natural history museum, which was thankfully found in New Troy, where he found more information about its settlement dating back to the 1600s by Italian navigator Vincenzo Gnanatti and Dutchman Paul De Vries first made its settlement during the European colonization. The city also became an unfortunate ground for bigotry and xenophobia during the Irish immigration in 1847. It was unsettling to read those words, how those immigrants would be disowned for mere variance. They were not from here and may not have even spoken a common language, but the inevitable good they brought would benefit their land for generations.

Tossing away the grim parallel, he proceeded into the histories of the different boroughs, such as St. Martin’s Island, Queensland Park and Park Ridge, which were all founding points of the entire city throughout the Revolutionary War.

Later, he took a ferry to St. Martin's Island. The island itself was nearly covered with taller buildings and many other larger houses that belonged to the upper class. He remembered thinking that this was _definitely_ not the place for him to live—at least for now, considering how much money he had up until now. Maybe he could live here after a period of time. There was no doubt that this is where the majority of Metropolis politicians resided, along with the businessmen who kept the city on its feet. Clark, however, did find pleasure in seeing several landmarks such as St. Martin’s Hospital, which was the largest hospital in the city.

The last borough he would visit for the day would be Bakerline. It was almost like New Troy, only this had a more vast focus on middle-class suburbs. Though, the biggest feature to stand out was the Naval base right on the coast that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. It wasn’t busy, but they kept a restrictive protocol to keep civilians away from the premises.

* * *

The sky had turned into a dark blue by the time Clark returned to his apartment. He was tired, but he wasn’t physically tired. The entire day had been a huge shift. The move, the exploring, the traveling and ultimately—the first day of the rest of his life all hit him at once and robbed his energy.

He had changed into his pajamas and got his suitcase full of documents as well as his tomorrow's work clothes, hanging neatly on the knob of his closet. The night's anticipation made him worry. He had worked it all before. He knew that stress and how demanding these kinds of jobs were, and it would be foolish to think the _Daily Planet_ would be less severe, let alone easier. As he lay worrying that if he’d get any sleep, he looked at the empty ceiling above him as his eyes were adjusting to the dark. He remembered the glow in the dark stars that were pasted on his ceiling back in his youth. The sound of crickets chirping their songs under a still warm nightly air instead of the twenty-four periodical sounds of car horns and police sirens. That would take a hell of a long time to get used to. Unlike the other times back home. How things were simpler back then. Before things became more complicated.

An idea then occurred to him. He shifted himself out of bed and walked over towards his window. Outside was nothing but an empty deep blue sky that had several stars that gave a shining gaze back at him.

Taking the chance, Clark lifted himself off the floor of his apartment and carefully made his way out of the window. The cool temperature was a chilling difference than the accustomed overbearing Kansas heat. Clark felt more chilled as the wind breezed against him as he soared upwards at an angle. As he reached a certain height, he looked below him to find a tall rooftop.

Once he found one, he worked his muscles to drive himself and make a smooth landing on the hard-stone surface. He sat downward and looked outward. The lights of cars flowed like a sparkling river against the rest of the streetlights which beamed over them. The view was an amazing sight, but it made him think back on the previous years that led him here. It wasn’t a thrilling life before now as he found himself now more alone than ever. He was proud of his accomplishments in the past, but he still felt empty. Since that incident of discovering that he’s an alien from outer space, he no longer felt the need to be around people who weren’t like him. Even today, he conjectured if he had done the right thing years ago of letting his childhood friends go. On one hand, it felt right. After breaking someone’s arm, there could’ve been something worse, and setting a school full of kids on fire sealed the deal. He wouldn’t injure anybody, and they would go on and lead happy normal lives without him.

A large city like Metropolis would be too large for anyone to notice him. Working at a place, however, would inevitably bring people to him. It would be like his childhood years all over again: him hiding in the shadows and only appearing when he deemed it necessary. Acting normal and being normal wasn’t the same thing, and no matter even if acting normal would negate his alien heritage.

Soon enough, his eyes felt heavy, and he began to drift. It was time to head back. Gathering the energy, he lifted himself off and directed himself back to Clinton Street.

* * *

The morning sunlight was much brighter than the previous dawns. At least that meant a lesser chance of rain and more sunshine—a fine start to the first day. Clark could use that as a comfort on his first day at work. The forecast’s predictions were on the right track of saying it would be sunny all day.

He slipped into his white shirt and shimmering silk tie, all of which were layered by a deep blue dress coat. He scanned himself in the mirror—darn it. He saw that this beard was starting to become more and more obvious. His five o’clock shadow snuck up on him after all these days of exploring. He completely forgot about it.

Focusing carefully, he activated the heat from his eyes and focused on his lower jaw. When he learned how to shave, he experimented with the possibility of using his eye heat for hair laser removal. Of course, it occurred to him after he concentrated enough to where he could conjure a heat ever so weak.

A couple of seconds later, and Clark’s stubble had faded, leaving a smooth surface of skin. He looked much better and more appropriate for a large corporation. At least that would save him some razors. He’d have to call his dad and tell him to not get any more for him for future Christmases. He placed his “special glasses” on his face and exited his apartment.

The walk to the _Daily Planet_ wasn’t as frustrating as he had envisioned. There was a crowd of people like he anticipated. Then again, he had been in large crowds before. He was used to it, but he much more preferred larger spaces. He maintained a modest posture and managed to fit in among the rest of the crowd, who were either on the way to their workplace or any other purpose. He planned the trip to the building carefully. He’d walk a few blocks and take a metro station to the tower. It was certainly different than anything he remembered from Smallville, where everyone knew everyone. There was rarely a gas station at a corner of a block.

By now, he was used to it. Seeing so many faces that he would only remember and never get too used to. A career at the _Daily Planet_ would at least give him faces to remember much longer. Just don’t get too attached like usual.

As he entered the main floor, he felt the excitement heating through his suit. He checked his watch. He was making good time. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside the _Daily Planet’s_ lobby.


	7. Chapter 7

The _Daily Planet’s_ main floor, like any other day, was flooded; there was little to no room for anyone to squeeze in through the hallway. One can never expect the place to be quiet, except for the evening times, when procrastinators turn in papers danced everywhere as office cubicles were illuminated by a laptop’s desktop screen that either focused on a word document, numerous tabs on a browser, or a discreet game of Solitaire. Regardless, the staff was proud of their ambition of being able to print their stories while the _New York Times_ or _Washington Post_ was still fishing for their sources.

In one of those cubicles were two people, which seemed to be the minimum number of people in each cubicle on the entire floor. One was a college-aged photographer, who was looking through his camera, while the brunette thirty-something-year-old woman, danced her fingers around the keyboard while staring intently at her laptop screen; she didn’t trust the office’s desktop. She had long dark brown hair that reached just right at her shoulders. It was brushed, but not professionally, out of her eyes as if she was in a hurry. She had a very sharp eye level as if she would stare down anyone despite her petite stature.

“Ms. Lane?” Jimmy Olsen called as he aimed his viewfinder at his co-worker who had a deep sharp focus on the word document she was typing, following the cursor.

“Ms. Lane?” he said in a sing-song tone.

She did hear him. The woman responded with a smirk, without looking up and extended her middle finger.

“There,” she said with a feigned smile. “Send that to my dad.”

Jimmy knew Lois long enough to catch her sarcasm and when she really meant it or not. He reciprocated her tone, playing along. “I will. I will definitely send that to the general of the United States Army.”

“Good,” she said. “How many L's in ‘parallel'?”

“L-L-E-L,” he said, placing his new camera down on his desk. “Ms. Lane—”

Without stopping her typing, she rolled her eyes. “Jimmy, this is your second week here now. Just call me Lois.”

“Sorry. Lois. Do you, uh, like, ever use spellcheck?”

She shook her head. “Waste of time.”

“It's really not,” he said slowly to get some sense into her. “People actually read this stuff.”

“Yes,” Lois answered quickly. “And I want them to know that _someone_ around here had the ball sack to say something that everyone won't say when they're too busy binging Fox or CNN.”

“Right,” Jimmy nodded to himself. “Ball sack. Right. That's—that's . . . Yeah, that’s you.”

“Besides,” Lois explained, “Perry's been dying for more cover on the _Constitution_ this afternoon. And now I’ve been assigned with the F.N.G. coming here today— _wherever the hell he is,”_ she mumbled.

Hitting the hotkeys to quickly save her document, Lois hoisted herself from her chair.

“Thought I’d let you know that ‘Constitution’ has three T’s,” Jimmy smirked.

“Thank you, Ron Weasley,” Lois said sweetly, patting his back as she passed him.

She was thankful that of all people, Jimmy was the only one who understood her sarcasm whether she was serious or being friendly. In her time, being this way was the best way to survive and pull yourself together in a city and a workplace that pulls you in two different directions. She got along with her other co-workers just fine, though, she never sought companionship. You can’t be too attached to anyone or your weakness will be exploited, and they’ll have your soul.

Lois got herself away from the walled-in offices where chatter rang, and keyboards clacked. She stopped in front of a glass door that had the words “EDITOR IN CHIEF PERRY WHITE” inked on the pane. Without even knocking, she twisted the knob and entered the wide windowed office of a middle-aged man known as Perry White. Perry sat in his chair and had his head buried in a newspaper while having his laptop off to the side on his desk. The room reeked of cigar smoke like always. Those ‘coffee breaks’ really paid off in the long run.

Perry sighed. He knew the moment he said this, Lois wouldn’t take it well at all. “Can’t print this.”

“What?” Lois said in incredulity.

He lowered the newspaper, exposing his tired face. She may not like what he was about to say, but it had to be said one way or another. “With City Hall breathing down my neck about your ‘expose’ of the mayor’s wife’s teen beauty pageant, and our transportation infrastructure, I can’t print another one of your conspiracy theories.”

 _Conspiracy theories._ Lois swore she almost flinched at the mention of those words. “We’re being taxed for young girls learning how to mix eyeshadow before they learn how to read, Perry!” Lois insisted, tightening her brows. “And now, it’s becoming every Tuesday, while we’re sitting here, learning how to _type!”_

“Lois,” Perry’s voice rising, “Look, you’re one of the best I got. You’re relentless, and I still can’t believe you’ve earned a Pulitzer Prize. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” she growled.

“But,” Perry retorted, “you’ve got to know when to stop. If you keep snooping around in other places and they find out that what you work for—or worse yet—who you are, they’ll have your press pass for lunch and your ass will be in jail.”

“So much for the ‘American Way’,” Lois grumbled.

The door opened behind her.

“Uh, you said you wanted coffee, sir?” Jimmy said as he peeked his head in while notably holding a fully occupied four-cup tray.

Perry gestured Jimmy to enter and he was handed his warm cup “It’s not what I wanted,” he continued as he focused back on Lois.

“Is that right . . .,” Lois growled.

Jimmy tilted his head at Perry.

“No, not you, Olsen,” Perry cleared his throat.

“Uh, hello? Mr. White?” came an unfamiliar voice from the doorway.

Perry huffed. _Great,_ he thought to himself. _More people in my office. It's not a lounge._ He looked up and saw a tall and seemingly built man in a blue suit, wearing glasses and a warm smile.

“Who are you?” Perry asked, trying to not sound irritated more than he already was.

“I’m Clark. Clark Kent,” he replied still preserving that stupid smile his mother wouldn’t ever let him die on. “We spoke on the phone about a week ago.”

It took Perry a while to put the pieces together of why that name sounded familiar. He then grunted in surprise. “Yes! Erm, Clark. Come on in.”

As the new worker entered the room, Perry got a better look at his new employee. He already knew what he looked like but reading a file and seeing someone in the flesh were two entirely separate things. It was also surprising to see how towering Clark was over every other current occupant in his office. The guy was an inch or two above six feet.

“Mr. Kent,” Perry said, clearing his throat once more, “this is Jimmy Olsen, intern photographer.”

“Hey,” Jimmy beamed holding out his hand. “I’m, uh, what he said,” he chuckled.

Clark returned the favor and shook it gladly but gently. Just like what his dad wanted. “Clark Kent.”

“Yeah, what he said too,” he chortled. He kept shaking his hand with no ending in sight. Awkwardly, Jimmy stopped himself and tried to put on a more professional expression.

Clark stifled his laughing grin.

“So, you’re the new guy, huh?” Jimmy said.

Clark could easily read that awkwardness so well. He grinned and replied, “yeah.”

Lois slightly tilted her head. Clark Kent. . . Wasn’t that the name of the new guy?

“Awesome,” Jimmy said. “You nervous?”

Clark bashfully shrugged. “Well, it’s a long way from home.” At least _that_ was the truth.

“Yeah, I hear ya, man,” Jimmy understood. “Homesick is always the first thing before you get used to it. Well, see you ‘round. Gotta get back on the floor. Good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Clark said as the young photographer exited beyond the opaque door.

Perry’s face and tone became less enthusiastic. “And this is Lois Lane. Lois, Clark Kent.”

Lois smirked her best presentable self despite still being pissed about the earlier topic. “Pleasure,” she said openly as she held her hand out.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Lane,” Clark grinned as he shook her hand.

Lois barely let her eyebrows rise as she felt his fingers. They were tough and firm as if he could crush her hand if he wanted to. In her life, the other hands that met hers were also firm, but this felt different.

She examined him carefully. “Hmm. Let’s see—firm grip, bright smile, a fair tan and gentlemanly mannered. Let me guess—southern?”

“Er, Kansas, actually,” Clark answered awkwardly, adjusting his glasses. “Smallville.”

“Well, then . . .,” She studied his height, “. . . _Small-_ ville. You and I are working together.”

“Yeah.” Clark shined. “I was told about that.”

Lois chuckled softly almost as if she’d pitied him. That smile of his . . . This guy’s so uppity, it’s sad. “Well, this outta be interesting.”

She turned to face Perry with a smirk and raised an eyebrow. “Chief, why don’t I show Smallville here around? Show him what little contacts we have left before we head out?”

“I’d like that,” Clark chimed in from behind her.

Keeping her expression, Lois gestured her head towards Clark.

It was Perry’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re actually volunteering, Lois?”

“I’m in nice-mode,” Lois said simply. “But I blame you for that.”

“So does everyone,” Perry grumbled as he returned to the newspaper that stayed on his desk. “Show him the ropes, but you two better hurry up. Traffic’s going to be slow.”

Lois faced Clark. “Come on, Smallville. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

The two left Perry’s office and Lois led the way back to the busy floor.

“Find your way here, okay?” Lois asked, observing how hectic the room was.

“Not really,” Clark answered casually. “It’s busy, but you know.”

“Sounds like you’re used to it. Yeah, if you’re used to it now, you should be fine,” she said almost in a miserable tone.

Clark had little time to get used to this new place. He had several office jobs, but none other compared to the scale of something much more sophisticated as the _Daily Planet._ This was far bigger than everything else, yet it still held a similarity to his previous positions. Here, there was never a time where everything got quiet. There was only mindless ambiance of endless chatter between co-workers and the constant clattering of fingers drumming on keyboards.

In addition, the number of differences between ages on the floor was intriguing. He had already met Jimmy Olsen, who looked like he just got out of high school. He read that the _Daily Planet_ was quite selective on who they chose to let in, so a big place like this to accept a man that young was impressively unheard of. All the others ranged from Jimmy to elder ones that either met Perry's or even beyond his.

Lois led Clark around and got him acquainted with some of the office's well know writers in charge of separate topics. There was a man who looked like he was in his late twenties named Steve Lombard, the sports editor, who knew even trivial sports that dated when football started. More brains in that area more than anything else, as Lois put it. At least he knew how to type.

There was also the strangely attractive forty-something-year-old Cat Grant, a columnist, who had so much gossip. When her eyes met Clark, she raised her sharply angular eyebrows.

“Well, Lois,” Cat said intrigued. “You didn’t tell me the new guy was so handsome.”

Clark could practically feel his face heating. Giving an awkward smirk, he replied a simple, “thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Lois came to his rescue. Tugging Clark away, she then said quickly and as nicely as her tone would allow, “he’s got a lot to learn. Catch you later.”

“Catch you later, Kent,” Cat called over in a flirtatious manner.

“Don’t bother,” Lois growled. “She has so much gossip, that’s all she ever thrives on. I swear to God she has ‘TMZ’ tattooed on her ass.”

Clark, however, didn't see such evidence. That is, according to his x-ray vision. . .

Once the somewhat awkward introductions were made, Lois grabbed Clark by the hand and tugged him back towards the direction of Perry’s office where they started. Lois’ grip told him it was urgent. Knowing that she was nowhere as strong as he was, he played along.

“Alright,” Lois said uprightly. “Playtime’s over.”

“So, what now?” he asked curiously.

“There's a story going on, Smallville. And you and I are going are catching it.”

Clark blinked. He had been so occupied with everything around him, he completely forgot about being teamed up with her. She led them to a cubicle, where she let go of his hand and proceeded to rummage through her workstation. Clark was stunned to see how cluttered her office space was compared to the other walled-in workstations. There were loose papers scattered with no organization, post-its that were stuck to her desktop monitor, file cabinets that weren’t closed all the way, as well as an empty food tray that lied on the side.

He didn’t recall ever seeing something like that at any of his working history, not even during college. If they were to ever see something like this, they’d freak and give her a good long lecture of being organized otherwise, she’d face some sort of policy penalty.

Lois engaged her way through her own workspace and lifted several papers that lay scattered, mouthing several curses to herself. “Ugh. Where the hell is it?” she muttered to herself.

“Uh, Lois?” Clark said, leaning towards her before speaking awkwardly. “You know, uh . . . for future reference, they say the key to a clear mind is an organized desk.”

“Ah!” Lois exclaimed as he pulled one paper out of one of the many loose sheets. “Sorry. Press pass. Alright, let’s go.”

Clark nearly lost the words. “Go where?”

Lois was already walking fast enough for Clark to follow closely. The two then made a circle around the workspaces and through a door, away from the large main floor, bringing an end to the chattering.

“In case you haven’t heard,” Lois said informatively without stopping, “did you ever read about the reinvention of the shuttle plane?”

“Yeah,” Clark answered. He really did understand the topic quite well. “How they’ve been advertising that it would be soon accessible for commercial flights?”

“Very same,” Lois confirmed. “They’re doing a test drive, and you and I are covering it.”

Clark’s eyes sparkled. “Us two?”

“We work together, don’t we?” she reminded.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Lois fake smiled. “Be happy. Most guys don’t get to really work on their first day on the job. Welcome to the _Daily Planet_ , Smallville.”

Clark could’ve said something, but anything he had in mind would’ve been too polite for her taste. Instead, he kept to himself the two proceeded out of the building and headed into the parking lot.

The drive to the Metropolis Airport hadn’t been an easy one—at least for Lois. Clark had never seen such road rage come from someone like her since Jonathan back whenever he was driving in a larger area like the city. On their way, there was a series of horn honks and desolate profanity from her while Clark silenced himself in a mix of discomfort and astonishment.

“You want respect, Smallville?” Lois calmed herself as she explained. “Demand it. If not, you won’t last five minutes out there. That’s the only thing you can do in a town like this.”

Clark let abeat pass by before answering. “Right . . . so,” he said in feigned friendliness, “where you from? You from around here all your life?”

Lois sighed as if that question was the one thing she was hoping she wouldn’t hear. Then again, the guy’s just asking. They're working together anyway. They might as well know each other.

“I’ve been all over,” she said humbly. “Originally from Ohio though. Hamilton County. Nice town.” Her face loosened into a grimace. “My mom died when I was too young to remember her. Dad was a hardass army guy. Now, he’s the General of the U.S. Army.”

Clark looked impressed.

Lois saw that. She displayed a weak smile. “Though, not exactly the best of dads. Said he always wanted a son. Guess that makes me the ‘son’ he never had,” she chuckled grimly. “Must’ve really broke his heart when I told I wanted to go into journalism than hold a rifle standing at a wall.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark sympathized.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with less meaning than her face. “We still keep in touch . . . when we want. I haven’t talked to him in about a year now. And when we do, it’s usually the same; I report a robbery, he keeps troops overseas. I talk about political illegalities, he pulls the head-of-command-and-do-what-I-want card.”

Clark pursed his lips. “Sorry, Ms. Lane.”

“Friends call me ‘Lois’,” she said warmly. “And by friends, just Jimmy back at the ranch.”

“So, I’m a friend?” Clark asked in sincere playfulness.

Lois softly chuckled. “Sure.” She let out a huffed sigh before her voice turned back to what it was before. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I don't,” Clark answered with a smiling friendliness.

“No. Really. Already dated men with heads bigger than their dicks. Dated a rich guy in Gotham. Not doing _that_ again.”

Clark was once more at a loss of words. It was fascinating and somewhat entertaining by how very dry and to-the-point she was. “I, er, can be a friend then,” he managed to say.

“Fair enough,” she said. “Don't have much anyway. Probably best.”

Clark’s heart sank as her words flew through him. “What do you mean?”

“If there was anything I learned about living with the old man back home from childhood ‘til now, it’s that less friends means less drama. That’s just how it works. You know, around here, Smallville, I’m only known for ‘most likely being arrested for trespassing’ in this city while telling the truth that, well, everything sucks. Aside from that, I don’t really have the luxury for companionship. I didn’t ask for it but deal with the dealt.” She sighed again. “So, do me a favor?”

Clark faced her.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she frowned. “The less expectations you have, the less disappointed you’ll be.”

Clark didn’t say anything for what felt like such a lifetime. He remembered Jonathan and Martha telling him that the big city wasn’t like home or any other place he had been living in in the past. He believed them right away and thought he was prepared for that. Until the day he arrived in Metropolis, he was never ready to begin with. He saw that Lois was a woman who had irregular principles of independence. Though, this kind of individuality was a direct contrast of what his birth parents would’ve wanted to maintain the repute of the ‘House of El’.

“Sounds like you’ve had it rough,” Clark said sympathetically.

Lois shrugged and made a fake deadpan smirk. “Just a product of my environment, Smallville. Just like you.”

“I think I understand, though,” Clark said deeply. “You know, when I was a kid, I didn’t have many friends. Just people I knew.” Clark shifted his focus on the outside world speeding by in moving blur. “My parents wanted me to the best person I could ever be. Be there for other people and try and make a difference, you know. And I know that sounds pretty corny. It’s just, I just don’t know if that means you have to be alone to make that happen.”

Dropping her armor, Lois’ tone turned to genuineness. “Do you think working at a newspaper network is making a difference? I’m really asking.”

Clark let out a sigh and returned his face back to Lois, then retracted to his upright self. “I think so,” he said. “You know, I’ve been into journalism for a long time. Not just report news but write about other things. Something good, not just incidents. I like to let people know that there is something good to look forward to instead of writing about a . . . bank robbery.”

Lois smiled warmly. “Well, if anything great happens in this town—like, _actually_ great, let me know. ‘Cause I’m still looking for that one.”

Clark smiled. “Will do.”

Throughout the rest of the trip, Clark took the opportunity to take another look at the upcoming project that was supposed to be launched today. The _Constitution_ was a Boeing-manufactured craft and was planned for many years upon being an inventive way of faster air travel around the globe. The project didn’t meet the requirements over the years of development, but the funds were provided by LexCorp, which was reported to have the full confidence in the project as soon as the provisions were met. Critics claimed that the entire idea would be outrageous if it proved to be yet another failure for revolutionizing commercial flights, but the Department of Transportation has shared their enthusiasm and confidence for both progression and safety.

There were countless tests with the kind of engine that would outfly any commercial flight. With trial and error, they were finally given a greenlight for their first public demonstration. Metropolis International Airport’s smaller airfield near the main complex had been given the privilege to host the demonstration as it will fly from there all across the country to Los Angeles Airport.

The demonstration’s time was about two hours away from now. Metropolis’ relentless traffic didn’t cut them that much slack and that only generated more of Lois’ curse storms Thirty minutes passed, and the two finally made their way to the property of Metropolis International Airport. So many people had already gathered at the event, some of the traffic had to be redirected, much to Lois’ irritation. More amazement for Clark from that. Once they reached the front gates she flashed her press pass at the front gates. Granting her access, the gates opened, and the two proceeded.


	8. Chapter 8

As they finally parked, Clark was first to exit the car; he already had everything he needed. He had his recorder, paper and pen. Lois took her time. Looking back, Clark saw she was still raiding through most of her stuff.

Cursing to herself, she waved her hand around her messy foliage of papers.

“Uh, Lois?” Clark said, wondering if she needed help.

“Got it!” Lois exclaimed as she held her things in her arms like a baby.

Much to Clark’s surprise, Lois was already walking fast towards the airfield and wasn’t waiting on anything. Catching up with her, Clark looked all around him and thought under his breath that he was even more thankful that he didn’t take a flight to Metropolis. It was only packed because of the demonstration, but the smaller airfield was going to be worse to get through.

The two followed a group of people, who were all making their way to the building that heralded the airfield. The airfield had been cleared of any private jets or mini-helicopters, save for security vehicles.

Clark and Lois kept up with each other among the crowd of people who had been gathered. They reached the main doors that led to the outside of the building that saw an entire tarmac. Out on the asphalt was the _Constitution,_ mighty and strong where it stood.

Clark wasn’t given much time before he was tugged by Lois, who insisted they move along; they had to get to their designation. Outside where they opened the doors was where the sun had been waiting to greet them. The immediate exposure to the outside sent a burst of attacking sunshine in Lois’ eyes. While cursing under her breath that she forgot her damn sunglasses, she let out a groan. “How much longer do they plan on having me walking?” she asked out loud as if no one was there to hear that.

Clark, of course, was nowhere near bothered having to walk all that distance. The sun’s warmth felt good too, though he knew perfectly well that it wasn’t just the vitamin D giving him the positive feeling.

The group walked more and soon enough, the _Constitution_ was made visible, much to the fascination of the onlookers. The aircraft had a grand structure, very much like how Clark looked it up in articles and on television. It was said to have been built to match the seating capacity of the large Boeing 747-400, which could occupy over six hundred people. The shuttle had was large as described. The craft’s texture was unlike any other commercial aircraft. It was built with the same kind of titanium metal that was used for N.A.S.A. shuttles. Looking ahead, Clark and Lois saw several people walking up the ramp and into the main cabin along with several government officials.

“Ready for your first day, Smallville?” Lois asked.

“Yeah,” Clark answered confidently.

The group was guided into a wide open room. A large screen was mounted on the back of a stage that had been pulled out for the beginning announcement. Several crewmembers were assembling the video equipment needed for the live footage. As of now, the screen just displayed a full-screen PowerPoint slide intro of the entire program. In front of the stage laid dozens of rows and columns of chairs that were prepped for their respective guests and observers. Some had already been sat while others behind them were only now getting to their either assigned or designated seats.

Of course, Lois got herself and Clark into the first row near the middle where the podium was looking directly at them. Minutes passed, and soon, nearly every chair had been occupied.

The female speaker stepped out onto the podium and checked the microphone.

After her introduction to the guests, she began a speech on how far science has gotten them into this moment, where traveling has now reached a new strategy where it will be faster, and if successful, should be a whole revolution for air traffic let alone the entire aircraft industry itself, should today’s demonstration prove successful. Completing the beginning speech, the speaker then announced the names of the pilots, who then walked on stage, which were welcomed with an applause. They saluted out into the crowd and were proceeded off to their assigned destination in the chairs that were resting on the stage.

The female speaker then discussed how the _Constitution_ will be accompanied by the Raptors while also introducing their names and ranks. The smaller fighter jets would not only act as escorts but also a speed test of keeping up with the maximum speed of the new and larger plane.

As soon as the Q/A session occurred, Lois was first to shoot her hand in the air, as Clark would’ve easily figured out on his own. Remembering all the years of knowing what it took to know everything about getting a story, Clark tried as best as he could to jot down what Lois had been asking and answers she was receiving. He was impressed with her energy and her use of questions. Keeping up with her questions and answers wasn’t easy.

“Once the aircraft hits the stratosphere,” the speaker said, “the insertion boosters will ignite, sending the craft into—”

“I’m sorry,” Lois said quickly _before_ raising her hand. “Did you say, ‘insertion boosters’?”

“Yes, Ms. Lane. Please hold any more questions until the end, please.”

Clark could tell that the speaker was getting agitated with Lois’ relentless questioning. The speaker’s face was seemingly telling herself that it won’t be long and no more questions until later. Clark silently wished that she would ease up.

Finishing the announcement, the speaker told Lois in the most gracious way possible that there will be more time for questions once the flight has been completed for debrief. Once Clark had the information down, Lois shot a wink at him. Man, if she didn’t calm herself, she was going to get them thrown out.

Afterward, the speaker formally dismissed herself and allowed the pilots to board the _Constitution._ Photographers stirred with their flashes while Lois stood back with her arms folded as if she was a critic, anticipating quite a show. Seconds followed, and the speaker then announced that the aircraft will be supervised by four Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor fighter jets that will be flying in a close, but safe proximity.

“Attention,” came the voice on the loudspeaker that nearly started everyone. “The _Constitution_ will launch in five minutes. If there are any spectators out on the field, we’ll have to ask you to remove yourself from the premises and follow security back into the building until after the launch. I repeat—the _Constitution_ will launch in five minutes.”

Excitement and anticipation started growing among the spectators. On the monitor screens above them, they saw surveillance footage from the interior cabin of the _Constitution_ , where several volunteers have been sitting. They’ve been strapped in by their seatbelts. Some were leaning back, hoping that this would be a relaxing demonstration. The other screen was displaying the shuttle’s interior, where the flight commanders were sitting. They were already flipping switches and adjusting their equipment.

Five minutes had indeed passed, though an extra sixty seconds threw a lot of people off as they held their breath for any potential glitches.

The loudspeaker’s voice came on again. “The _Constitution_ will launch in sixty seconds. We ask you to stay clear beyond the security barrier at this time.”

Seconds ticked by, and the engines began to groan. The chatter immediately died. Everyone directed their focus on the _Constitution,_ who’s engines groaned louder until the ground began to vibrate with its stir.

Clark looked at the monitor that focused on the passengers. The cabin was shaking. Some people were holding onto their armrests while several looked around them with sheer eagerness on their faces.

The engines continued rumbling from the distance as the spectators observed, waiting for the entire craft to start moving. Some were wondering if this as natural. This was becoming uneasy; this had been so different from all the other commercial planes.

At long last, the _Constitution_ moved. Permeating his heightened hearing through the groaning of the engines, Clark could hear the massive wheels it roll along, crushing the gravel below. As the movement became more obvious, cameras began clicking and talking brewed. Adrenaline spiked among the crowd as the _Constitution_ was beginning to pick up speed and the engine grew louder.

The monitors showed that the passengers were still in the same position as seen before the run started. Soon enough, the wheels left the black ground and the plane had ascended. The spectators then shifted their focus onto the monitors. Everyone on the screens had remained the same, except for the footage that displayed the pilots onboard the _Constitution._

Clark’s heightened hearing picked up radio chatter that sounded through the monitors that focused on the pilots of the shuttle.

“T-minus sixty seconds until ignition,” Clark heard the radio say.

“Roger that. Body signs are normal, and readings are steady. We are ready to go.”

Clark’s hearing then detected an incongruity. He heard a radio hissing rapidly. Only it didn’t sound like a standard procedure being given in an oral fashion. It sounded more like an erratic chatter. It was a different sound than regular feedback. The faint sound of loud voices met his ears. The loud voices began shouting erratically. Too many voices to make out exactly what they were saying, though the tone was definitely restless.

Someone’s voice was faintly telling them to “wait!”.

Another faint radio voice was heard. “Raptor Three, respond. One of your engine notifications is on. Everything okay? Respond.”

The pilot of Raptor Three shot his face at the alarm that blared. One of his engines was stalling. This wasn’t uncommon, but a time like this could be deadly. The _Constitution_ was set to go into a speeding sonic boom in less than a minute. If he couldn’t pull out in time, he would be too close to the craft.

Five seconds.

The jet wouldn’t allow him to maneuver away. The engine wouldn’t stir. He was unresponsive and a sitting duck.

He reached for the radio without hesitation. “Wait! Stop the countdown! I have a stalling engine! Restart the countdown!”

The countdown reached zero.

The captain could hear some sort of radio chatter just as his hand reached for the thruster. He pulled it back and the _Constitution_ rumbled.

On the monitor, the spectators saw that every passenger on the _Constitution_ was having their hands on their armrests, preparing for the expectation. A rumbling jerk followed, and they fastened themselves.

Clark couldn’t shake the uneasiness. More sounds of faint radio chatter sputtered. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like everything was normal.

The air traffic control’s main floor was monitoring the flight’s pattern. Many operators were fingering their monitors and consoles, trying to figure out the problem. Raptor Three’s position was too close to the _Constitution._ Any more distance reduced, and he would collide alongside the craft.

The director took notice and adjusted the radio channel. “Raptor Three, you are moving too close to the _Constitution._ Do you read? Acknowledge.”

The pilot’s GUI scope only helped with his vision as it was set to view with the ground below, unaffected by gravity. His arms tightened, hoping to fight the stubbornness of the stick. “ _Consitituion,”_ he exclaimed. “This is Raptor Three. I’m in a jet wash. Abort. Abort now!”

“Clear all nonessential personnel,” the director on the intercom before turning his attention back on the main floor. He deeply hoped that something like this would never happen. They would happen, but something like this on his watch could cost him his job, or worse—someone’s life or lives. “Raptors, I need you to clear the area. I’m ordering a complete evacuation of everyone within a ten-mile radius. Do it now.”

Raptor Three’s live feed was spiraling like mad. So much motion occurred until it was hard to tell where exactly he was. The view of the _Constitution_ from his point of view became murky. People starting exclaiming with questions. Soon, shouts of panic arose. If a plane was out of control at that speed, it could potentially impact the _Constitution._

Clark could hear yells and shouts on the radio. His hearing slowly sank into a miscellaneous distorted buzz as fear coated him along with everyone else around him.

Lois found herself at a loss of words. Her notepad and pen were now lowered at her sides, allowing herself to take in the situation. She had witnessed several tragedies in her previous days. She was hoping there wouldn’t be one on this day.

Raptor Three fought the joystick’s jerking movements. The jet’s motion hardened the controls and a workaround was turning to more impossible.

“Abort!” he panicked.

Baring and grinding his jaws together, he hardened his hands on the stick. With a loud grunt, he pulled hard enough that he thought he could’ve snapped the stick off.

The jet’s spiral slowed down.

Raptor Three’s view stabilized. Feeling the panic complete its rush through him, his eyes widened once more. The jet’s nose was a handful of yards away from making a head-on course at one of the _Constitution’s_ wings. Cursing, Raptor Three jolted the steering stick upward in a desperate move to avoid collision. He steered himself upward while angling a little to the left to avoid the wing—

A violent shove shook the pilot forward as the low rumbling sound of metal crunching boomed.

Alarms within the cockpit blared, delivering perspiration in the pilot’s uniform. Quickly regaining his petrification, he checked his console, which immediately displayed a current diagnostic of the jet. The tailfin had been cut off while a chunk of his left wing had also been clipped.

The jet then turned downward and began its slow, followed by a quick descent.

“This is Raptor Three,” the pilot panicked. He had to eject, but the message had to be spread first. “ _Constitution_ has been hit. I repeat— _Constitution_ has been hit. The left wing has been damaged. Alert emergency responders now!”

With his next instinct, Raptor Three pulled the ejection lever. As the cockpit broke open, the fire beneath his seat rocketed and he shot out of the jet. As his parachute flew out and air unrolled it, the jet continued its fall far down below him.

On the monitor, the passengers were being propelled back. Screams erupted in the cabin as oxygen masks fell out of their compartments for everyone to grab onto. Several passengers fell out of their seats and smacked against other chairs.

“Left wing has been damaged!” the radio screeched from what Clark could hear. “We’ve sustained damage! We need emergency responders for possible crash landing!”

The reporters and spectators were stirring. Exclamations of “oh, my God!” resonated.

The female speaker who helplessly watched the monitor couldn’t find the words. Her eyes couldn’t fathom what she was witnessing. All those people on the plane were doomed, and people would be expecting a word of caution from her. Her anxiety wouldn’t allow her to find the words. She was only supposed to give an announcement.

Among the frightened commotion, Clark breathed heavily at what he was seeing. Numbness sapped away any feeling in his fingers. He began to think about the people on the plane that were high above ground and far away from any form of help.

That is, except for one possibility.

This was the day Jonathan talked about when he was a kid. How important it was for him to be discovered by the rest of the world. How important that the House of El stood for what was right. At the same time, once he does this, there’ll be no going back like he was told decades ago. There was also the prospect that someone might get hurt like with Pete. Only, this was far different. Hundreds and thousands of lives were on the line.

So early . . .

One secret was not worth anyone’s life.

As everyone noisily glued their eyes to the monitors while also dialing phone numbers for emergency, Clark used the opportunity to back himself away from the crowd. It was fairly simple as everyone was already standing from their chairs, too occupied stirring in a panicking uproar and already dialing for emergency services. Making his way through the hallways, several people were scrambling by him, walking fast. Fortunately, security guards were too occupied to take notice of him.

Clark reached the emergency door that led to the outside, but it was occupied by one security guard who was listening to his walkie-talkie to not let anyone out. Cursing to himself, Clark turned around and headed back to the main entrance.

The main entrance was also scattering with several people. Security guards and personnel were shifting themselves hastily to get to their stations, but the front door was not guarded. Watching the guards, making sure they weren’t watching, he slid himself through the door.

Clark ran away from the building and he then looked upward. The _Constitution_ was barely visible from where he was standing. The rumbling from the plane, however, was loud, so it would be at least easy to find. It rang through his ears, and he swore he could hear the panic and fear onboard the cabin.

He glanced all around him and saw several security guards from a distance, looking upward while speaking on their radios, letting them know that they need assistance for a potential disaster.

One of them had glanced at Clark. “Hey!” he shouted as he started approaching him, pointing a finger.

Clark’s heart skipped a beat. It was now or never.

The guard reached for his firearm. “Stop right th—!”

Without thinking, he removed his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. He then looked up and launched himself into the air at a blinding speed like a bullet fired from a gun, hoping that he was too far away for the guard to make out any of his physical features.

The guard stopped moving and froze, unmoving his pointing finger and gun reaching pose. Looking up, his eyes broadened as his mouth dropped wide open. “What the f—?!”

 _Okay,_ Clark thought anxiously. _First person to see me fly. Wouldn’t say the best reaction so far._

Like all the other times he had practiced since his childhood, Clark held his arms out in front of him for balance as the hard wind slapped against his face. He tightened his muscles, increasing his speed. It nearly startled him as he marveled at what was probably the fastest he was going, according to his experience. All other times were for practice or a night travel, but this was an emergency.

The sound of the roaring engine was growing louder. The black speck that he assumed was the plane was growing in size. The _Constitution’s_ left wing was badly ripped. Smoke and flames were drawn in a straight line from the openly damaged portion.

Metallic groaning and crunching then sounded. The entire left wing began to wobble. By every second, the wing shook more violently.

Clark soared faster. A large crack was forming, dividing the wing and the rest of the craft. He was getting closer. If he could just reach it before—

The _Constitution’s_ left wing detached and broke off.

Clark’s enhanced hearing could pick up a faint sound that heavily implied gasps and cries from the helplessly watching crowd below.

Quickly thinking, he angled himself to where the wing was heading right into him. He veered his arms right into the center of the falling piece, only the piece was rotating uncontrollably. There was no time to simply let it down, otherwise the _Constitution_ could make a collision. Barely feeling the impact, the wing scattered into smaller less lethal pieces with a metallic banging crunch.

Several of the _Constitution’s_ passengers were thrown forward from their seats. Panic and screams filled the cabin while people scrambled to hold onto their oxygen masks for dear life.

The captain’s console interface displayed a layout of the entire plane. The lower left half of the left wing was flashing red along with a text that depicted a dislocation. The captain scrambled his fingers on the console to look up the aerial map where they were now. They were just beyond Metropolis’ city limit, and ahead of them was the interstate. The captain huffed. The interstate wouldn’t be as populated, but there would still be potential casualties if this entire plane were to crash land there. Everywhere else was impossible at this rate.

“ _Constitution_?” the flight director cried on his headset. “Respond!”

“The left wing has been damaged,” the pilot spoke, calming himself down. “Raptor Three has parachuted. Our left wing has been broken off. We’re going down. We need help now.”

“Captain,” one operator exclaimed while pressing his headset. “Can you hear me? You’ve got a bogey heading towards you.”

_“What?”_

“Bogey heading right for you. North side, coming in fast.”

The captain hastily wrestled with the console and the interface displaying the ship’s radar maximized itself above all other menus. An unidentified single dot made itself into existence. It was moving fast across the screen.

The operator stared at the unidentified aircraft’s unbelievable speed on his screen. It was traveling even faster than the _Constitution's_ earlier projected velocity.

“Jesus,” he silently exclaimed.

The fighter jet pilots each checked their radars. Something was approaching. Its position was moving across their screen an irregular pace. This was a much faster speed than any other enemy jet in their experience.

The _Constitution_ was starting to glide downward. Within the cabin, Clark’s ears could definitely identify the screams.

Mimicking the plane’s direction, Clark soared fast until he was now underneath the massive airliner. Feeling the adrenaline and taking several breaths, he raised his hands above him and was now standing in midair, high above the world. His palms then met the hull and lightly tightened the tips of his fingers to anchor themselves on the metallic surface.

 _Steady_ , he told himself. A sudden halt at this speed could kill everyone onboard.

He could feel the plane’s hefty swiftness as he connected himself with it; he was nearly thrown forward along with it. He raised his knees for more leverage from his body, tightening his muscles, trying to be the new force for the plane. Clenching his teeth, he strained his muscles to soften the plane’s descent.

Seconds passed, and he started to feel the plane’s fall begin to slow down. The angle the nose was facing was now slowly turning upward back to a stance that had no slope and ran parallel against the ground.

He then flexed his arms to try and change the aircraft's path by trying to make it slightly tilt on one side. He kept his body firm and pressed his fingers against the metal surface to make it as gradual as possible, but the plane's velocity was fighting against him.

" _Come on, come on. . ."_ he strained to himself, tightening his face. Sweat formed at his forehead. He couldn’t harden his hands anymore. If he tried any harder, the plane would break apart. A soreness bulged beneath the skin of his arms.

This was unlike anything he had held before. It wasn't like lifting a couch or a car. An airplane with a much larger mass, carrying hundreds of people added much more weight than anything else he endured. Clark tightened his fingers a little more until they made dents into the metallic hull.

Soon, the plane was beginning to angle itself on its right side. Clark felt the mass above him alternate and have a different feel that one side was feeling heavier than the other. Realizing it was working, he eased his fingers.

" _Constitution_ , what's going on up there?" the operator asked.

"I don't know," the captain answered, swiveling his head around, eyeing the console readings and what was in front of him. The dot that indicated the bogey’s position as right on top of him. He could also sense that the entire plane was tilted. "We're slowing down and we're changing course. Something’s controlling us. Raptors, do you have a visual on anything?”

The director and operator exchanged confused looks. "Cap, that bogey is right where you are."

"We don't see anything out here!" he exclaimed unnervingly, turning his head to find nothing but hazy clouds.

" _Constitution_ , this is Raptor Two," said the pilot’s voice. "We're coming around you now."

The _Constitution_ was indeed heading back towards where the plane was at almost the same speed when they separated-

"Raptor Two, do you see anything out there?" the director said.

"Coming up on it now," the pilot answered as he observed the commercial flight.

The Raptor jet approached the plane and the pilot’s eyes lit up. The plane was no longer nosediving as it was projected to. Its hull was now almost at a flat angle that ran parallel with the ground below.

"Wait a minute," Raptor Two said as his naked eye caught something on the hull.

His eyebrows narrowed even further. It was small and barely stood out along with the rest of the large aircraft. "It's . . . Oh, my God! It’s a man!" he exclaimed.

The director pressed his headset and furrowed his brows. "Raptor Two, say that again, please?"

"It's a man! He's . . . he's holding the plane," his voice trailed away. A man holding a plane in midair? What the hell was going on?

Clark saw that the Raptors were flying by him as they made a large wave of breezy air that brushed past him. He supposed that would’ve been the moment someone might have gotten a look at him. That made his stomach feel heavy. There were bigger priorities now. Nevertheless, he tried ducking his head to use his arms to hide behind. He continued making his slow and steady turn. By the second, the motion of the plane being moved was getting easier and easier. A couple of seconds followed, and Clark had the plane turned around completely, and it faced the direction from where it took off.

A high altitude would give him the advantage to find the airport much quicker than relying on many signs within the city limits or the expressways. It was very easy to spot high from above as well as the distinction of the large tarmacs.

"Sir," the operator said as he carefully studied his screen. He wasn’t sure how to say this to his boss, but it was happening, and these monitors wouldn’t lie. “The _Constitution’s_ moving back."

"What?" the director asked incredulously.

"Sir, it’s, um. . . it's heading back towards the airfield."

The director's mouth gaped as he saw on the larger screen that oversaw the entire control room. The operator was indeed correct. The flight's path was now going in reverse. It was moving back to its launching site of the smaller airfields of Metropolis International Airport. Whoever was controlling the plane was making this happen somehow.

"Captain?” the director called as he pressed his headset. “Captain are you there? Respond.”

"I'm here," the captain's voice said. "We've slowed down, and our altitude has stopped falling. Who's controlling us? Who's below us?"

The director couldn’t answer that. Instead, he turned to one of his assistants. "Get in touch with the fighters. If they ever get the chance without collateral damage, I want whatever’s controlling it to be brought down by any means," he uttered as the assistant nodded before dismissing himself.

Clark eased his grip on the massive aircraft above him. The speed of moving along while holding it was becoming more adaptable. He looked below him and saw how far away he was from the earth, just like he did on his practicing nights back home. Just like how he felt back home, it was time to reach back on the surface.

He relaxed himself and he and the plane started dropping at a plodding tread. His fingers relaxed as he focused his eyesight back to where he first flew up.

As that thought occurred to him, he just remembered something—Lois! She must be wondering where the hell he’s been for the past five minutes! And he’s never been good at improvising a cover story. . .

Lois looked around her, searching for Clark as she watched the news along with the other spectators in mouth gaped captivation. Where the hell has he been for the past five minutes? He better has a damn good reason why he’s not here. He’s missing everything! And first day on the job? _Really?_

Clark started tensing his muscles to propel the aircraft forward as he began adjusting his altitude to a lower. Thankfully, the force from the _Constitution_ was barely noticeable, and manipulating the plane’s trajectory was much easier than it was earlier. He could make out the airfield where the _Constitution_ took off and it looked easy enough to place the aircraft back onto a large airfield. Still holding onto the underside of the plane, he continued himself across the wide-open city of Metropolis, which by now, would definitely notice him.

As he neared the airfield, he could already notice many police cars huddled outside the main terminal and saw hundreds of people looking upward. Security guards were unable to lead people back inside. The plane was no longer crashing, and an unnatural incident of a “man” carrying a plane with his bare hands all the way back here was incredible. Nobody knew what to do.

No Lois in sight. Though, he was beyond certain to see someone like her first on the scene for something like this.

Clark lowered himself further and further and he was now at a perfect forty-five-degree angle from the long asphalt where it all once started. Several officers were spotted, but they at least kept most people back; it had been such an ordeal to maintain control. They were holding their radios giving or receiving orders and had their hands placed on their firearms. Clark withdrew his head, hoping that nobody could make out his physical features. If he was discovered, then everything would be undone.

Remembering all of his training back home on how to slow himself down while dropping altitude, he relaxed himself slowly as he continued holding the plane high above his head, without any warning signs of fatigue. Though carrying a plane full of people _was_ different. It also didn’t help much that

Easy . . . easy . . . About fifty more feet to go.

As he lowered, Clark discovered that holding something massive above him wasn't all too different from flying regularly. He found that it had to do more with motor skills and coordination rather than just flexing muscles. Maybe that would be something else to practice from time to time when no one was looking.

Clark prepared his legs as the ground came more and more into a clear view. The officers now had their firearms pointed and aimed him. Clark tried nudging his head behind one of his arms to conceal himself. He felt he still wasn’t quite ready for anyone to know the name of the man who can do this.

At long last, Clark’s feet found a surface. He bent his knees and maintained his grip on the aircraft, careful enough to not tip it to any side.

“Whatever you are!” one of the officers cried. “Put down that plane! There’s no need for those people to die!”

Clark released a heavily panted scoff. What did they _think_ he was doing?

Clark slightly eased his arms on the plane, leaving it to steadily tilt on its front side. When the front end of the plane tapped on the ground, he tightened his grip again and shifted himself to where he could lower the other end. He kept his head ducked to avoid any kind of identification. As he positioned himself out from underneath the aircraft, he used all his might to carefully lower the plane until it hit the ground with a muffled scraped of metal meeting concrete. Releasing a sigh of relief, Clark’s eyes popped open as a gasping chill stabbed him. He could feel the hair on his nape prickle like tiny needles.

A massive crowd stood in place. Many of them were still exclaiming about the safety of the passengers while the vast majority of them were staring wide-eyed and several mouths were dropped. Clark could feel the color of his body drain from him and an icy sensation coursed through him.

Now, that the people were safe, it was time to get back to Lois, who would, no doubt, be furious with him after all this. As he veered back over, he looked back at the airport from high above, slightly murky from the clouds separating him and the ground. From his perspective, the lot outside of the airport hadn’t been busy as everyone else was too occupied to get into the terminal at this point. That was fortunate. He also saw that police cars were pouring near the main terminal’s entrance. That was unfortunate.

Clark darted his eyes to the side of the entire complex, where some wildlife acted as the outer shell of the airport. Clark grimaced and felt his heart sink, knowing that this great distance would take even more time for him to return where he was supposed to be. He stretched himself and darted downwards in a blinding fast motion to that location.

His descent ended in a gradual stop as his feet met the ground where he was coated by heavy branches. After a couple of deep breaths of regaining composure, he reached into his pocket and got his glasses out again. He fixed his wind-blown hair as best as he could before stepping out of the bushes.

He walked as fast as he could without relying on how fast he _really_ could go. Nobody was taking notice to him at least. Thanking silently to himself, he started heading back to the smaller airfield’s facility.

Lois scribbled down on her notepad madly as she looked out the window and saw that the plane was being evacuated. Emergency vehicles surrounded the area while responders were outside checking on the exited passengers for potential injuries. Gurneys were brought out, but the paramedics didn’t seem to be incredibly distraught. That told her that there didn’t seem to be any deaths or life-threatening injuries.

Meanwhile, the rest of the spectators in the room were watching and asking questions about what just happened. Some had wondered if the “flying man” was part of the project in case something went wrong, to which, of course, the speaker didn’t know how to answer that professionally.

Clark returned to the main room where he had left. As he had figured, people were taking a curious notice to the outside, where the passengers were being accompanied by medical personnel. The reporters were kept from exiting out onto the tarmac while security guards allowed paramedics to pass through if they needed to get by.

Searching the crowd, Clark found Lois. Unlike the rest of the erratic reporters, she was seemingly having a word with the female speaker from earlier. The poor speaker was faltering and had no choice but to expediently excuse herself from the area.

“Lois!” Clark exclaimed.

She turned her head at her name and was surprised to see her new partner after a period of absence. Her expression then turned to anger. “Where the _hell_ have you been? There was a whole spectacle and you missed it! The plane almost crashed and there’s a “flying man”—that’s what they’re calling it—and it brought the plane back, saving all those people!”

Clark faked panting. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Lois,” he breathed.

Lois tilted her head and studied him. “Are you okay, Smallville?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammered. “I just . . . I just got a little . . . nervous when I saw everything going wrong.”

Lois squinted. “So, where’d you go? You were gone for the whole thing.”

“I, uh, I went to the bathroom,” he forced. “. . . had to vomit.”

“ _Vomit?”_ Lois asked clenching her brows.

Crap. She wasn't buying it.

“Y-yeah,” Clark said. "I just-I-I just had an experience of flying; you know? And-and seeing that again just, you know, got me worked up."

He cursed under his breath. That was the best he could come up with?

Lois' squinted at him. This guy's way too soft in this town. This city will chew him up and spit him out. And someone like him was too afraid to get a story like this? Who does that?

"Okay," she said, still trying to process what he just said, "But listen. _Please_ let me know where you are next time. And another thing? You really missed out on something, Smallville.”

Clark grimaced.

“I'll cover for you this one time but understand this: _this_ is what the job is all about. You’ve _got_ to be there. No matter how ugly it gets, you’ve got to capture what happens. Be in the moment. You can't let anything else hold you back. That’s how you get people to know you.”

Clark lowered his head and nodded sincerely. "Sorry."

"Forget it," she said in a tone that did make Clark feel more comfortable. "Look, just own it, okay?"

"Yeah," Clark said quickly. "So, uh, did you get anything about the 'flying man'?"

"Not much," Lois responded. Just the reports we've heard from air traffic control and eyewitnesses out on the field."

"What about the people from the plane?” Clark asked. “Are they okay?”

“Some minor injuries, but that’s about it,” Lois said.

“Well, why don’t we start asking questions?” Clark brought up fast.

Lois smiled. “Thought you’d never asked.”

Clark and Lois dissipated from each other and took their time from each person asking multiple questions. For Lois, it was easy; she must’ve written at least three or four pages of her little notebook after asking many detailed questions from fellow spectators as well as several security officers, who could only answer what they saw—an unidentified man just carried a plane back to the ground.

For Clark, he tried to act normal as much as he could while still thinking back on the plane. He asked around about what they saw. The most asked question he kept asking was “did you get an I.D. on the flying man?” Luckily, the answers received were that no one could identify the “flying man”. Some were even wondering if it was a man or human at all. Some were sure it was human because it was wearing humanistic looking clothes. One even said that it looked like Clark himself.

By the time he met up with Lois again, they compared each other’s answers.

“You stuck to the spectators?” Lois asked.

The question seemed to have bothered Clark in a way that made him feel like he wasn’t doing enough.

“Yeah,” he answered quickly sounding professional. “Some said that it might have been human. Just don’t know how it could pull off something like this. What about you?”

She scoffed. “I asked several security guards,” she boasted.

“What’d they say?” Clark asked trying to conceal his nervousness.

“Eh,” she shrugged, “pretty much the same thing your witnesses were saying. They saw the same thing we did. Or everyone but you. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken,” Clark forced a grin.

“Alright,” Lois said, “let’s get back to base. Perry’s going to have kittens about what we’ve seen. He’s been looking for stuff like this for a freakin’ decade.”

The two made their way out of the entire crowd which felt like it took almost an hour. Clark felt the anxiety kick in once more when he realized that there were much more people around than ever. He was aware that he would be getting indirect attention, but there was a difference between knowing and feeling. All it took was one slip, and everyone would be swarming around him like earlier. It was only going to get more complicated from now on.


	9. Chapter 9

**PENTAGON, WASHINGTON D.C.**

General Samuel Lane walked as fast as he could down the hallway, making the heels of his boots making loud clacks on the hard floor while tucking his service cap into his arms. He had heard the news already, but for something so unusual, it was hard to concentrate on the best course of action to take. There would be the pressures from those politicians he tried so hard to please, in addition to informing the president of the current situation. Despite how unfamiliar this circumstance was, he had an obligated duty to remain calm as General.

Sam walked into the room that had at least twenty people at their terminals. Only a few people could turn their heads. What they were seeing was far beyond what they could comprehend. Their consoles emitted an ominous blue and green mixture that lit the room into a bright turquoise aura. In the room waiting for him was Lieutenant General Calvin Swanwick, who had a face of extreme anticipation but couldn’t hide it from his superior officer.

“When did we pick this up?” Sam asked, approaching his colleague and keeping his scowling no-nonsense demeanor.

“About half an hour ago, sir,” Calvin replied accordingly. He led Sam to the table in the middle of the room, where a large table had been laid. As the two men neared it, Calvin fingered the console keys, and soon enough, a holographic image materialized, suspended just a couple of inches above the flat warm surface. The image was transparent, but Calvin adjusted the sharpness until the image was opaque as if a large photograph was hanging in front of him. It was still pixelated, but it was lucid enough to decipher what it was showing.

“This satellite image was taken about fifteen minutes ago,” Calvin explained. “It was the clearest image we were able to capture. Radar’s been acting funny for the past half hour and we’ve estimated the diameter of this thing to be about five hundred kilometers.”

Sam gave him a look. “Do we know that if this has anything to do with the Metropolis Airport?”

“Unable to tell,” Calvin answered. He pulled out a small silver box that projected an image of an earlier report on the plane. It also projected the news anchor that described that witnesses were saying that a ‘flying-man’ was responsible for carrying the plane back to the airport without any reported casualties.

“Flying man”, Sam scoffed ever so softly. Was _this_ Lois’ idea for being so inventive?

“But,” Calvin continued, possibly hearing his C.O.’s words. “We picked this image up less than an hour after the airport incident. The timing is too precise to be a coincidence.”

Sam pursed his lips in contemplation. At the same time, Calvin was right to believe this, yet there was still uncertainty. “How do we know this isn’t a comet or some large meteor?”

Turning off the projection and discarding the silver box, Calvin said, “it’s making a certain trajectory change, General. Naturally, meteors have one path, but this has been making a peculiar path as if it was making a course change. We’ve projected that this object is slowing down right outside our atmosphere.”

“Enemy fighter or a MiG?”

“Not likely. No radio signals detected, and this isn’t some kind of stealth technology either.”

Sam looked at the image on the screens again. The static resolution of the object was hard to make out, but whatever it was had a certain shape. The top of the object was dome-like, but its bottom portion was something else. The bottom was harder to decipher, but from what it looked like, the bottom was a series of complex shapes that made up the entire bottom half, all of which were covered by the upper dome. The infrared versioned image had the object’s color as mostly blue and the outline of the object was slightly more visible than the unaltered image.

“Has any attempt been made to try and communicate with it?” Sam asked painstakingly.

“We got people at N.A.S.A. and the S.E.T.I. working on that, sir. We’ve picked up their radio signal, but we haven’t received any kind of response. Luckily, we haven’t received word from the media—or better—the public that there is an object heading toward us.”

“As of now,” Sam grumbled worriedly. “If anyone like my daughter were to hear about this, they’re going to have a field day with this thing and never let it go.”

“Sir!” said one of the analysts. “If this object is continuing its trajectory, we’ve estimated that it could potentially enter our atmosphere in the next twenty minutes.”

Sam looked at both images again, feeling a cold uneasiness. “Whatever this thing is, it’s not comforting,” he said as he reached for a nearby phone that was sitting on one of the desks of the analysts.

“This is General Lane. Get me the Secretary of Defense. Also notify the D.H.S. We have an unidentified object preparing to enter our atmosphere.”

“Right away, sir,” the answer on the other line said.

A striking high-pitched buzz suddenly seared through the room. There was a simultaneous cry from everyone, who then dislodged their headsets from their faces. The monitors began to flicker to blackness at an uneven tempo.

The same buzz was heard from Sam’s phone, which he instinctively dropped. “What the hell?” he exclaimed before turning to Calvin. “Someone hacking into our systems?”

Calvin’s only response was a pained face of the ear-splitting screech. Every day, this country’s enemies would attempt to hack into their systems, but each time, there would be a hint or warning. This was far too prevalent. Everyone else in the room started squirming in their seats, clacking their keyboards and trying to vainly call tech support to see if there was a way to stop it.

After a couple of seconds, the blinking turned to static, converting the blue and green light to a pale white, giving more exposure to the entire room. The hiss of the static almost died immediately and made way for a barely audible high-pitched ambiance. Everyone’s face shifted from confusion to even more concern as they witnessed their screens go from monitoring everything happening outside of the planet to nothing.

Then a figure appeared on the screen. From what was seen, the figure was human-looking. Or rather, it kind of did; it was hard to tell.

Sam and Calvin stared at the figure moving slowly through the many black and white speckles that danced on the screen.

* * *

“A ‘flying man!’” Perry White shouted. He was almost excited, but this needed to be heard loud and clear.

The rest of the staff on the floor was called to a quick meeting ever since the _Constitution’s_ incident.

“This is big fish, people. Whether it’s a robot, or a human experiment or a damn angel from the sky, I want to know about this one. Happening here in our city. In Metropolis! People, this kind of thing landed right in our lap—there you are!”

Clark and Lois were squeezing their way through the main floor’s crowd, trying to get in Perry’s eyesight.

“Got anything?” he asked eagerly.

“ _Every_ thing,” Lois said proudly.

“Good,” Perry said quickly, “but we need more.”

Lois rolled her eyes, but she knew that this was typical of him to say.

“As I was saying, this ‘flying man’ is here in our city, people! _Our_ city! This is a gold mine once in a lifetime shot here! We need to know everything we can about this ‘flying man’. Some are thinking it’s some hoax, but we all saw this. You saw it, didn’t you, Lois?”

Lois nodded enthusiastically.

“We need the truth. I want to know how he flies. I want to know how he can lift a goddamn _plane_ with two hands. I want to know if he’s even human.”

“He is human, Mr. White,” Clark said, triggering everyone’s head to turn towards him.

“And how would you know that, Kent?” Perry asked with anticipation.

Clark blinked and felt as if a heatwave breezed into his cheeks. Why did that come out?

“Well, several eyewitnesses,” he said hesitantly, “including the officers who were on the scene said they saw him. A-And they identified him as human, sir.”

Perry looked confused, but then made a face that seemed like he was fascinated by this information.

“Alright then!” Perry said that made Clark jump. “So, he’s human! Or _looks_ human! If we can get anything on this guy, maybe even _talk_ to him, this will be the interview of the whole damn millennia. What are you standing around for? Get on it! I want that story!”

Everyone on the floor quickly shuffled their feet and dispelled to their stations. Clark followed their pace while Lois went at her own. She calmly walked back over to her cubicle and dropped her papers flat on her desk, not even bothering putting them away.

Clark, on the other hand, was so ready to finally sit himself down and have a moment to collect. He didn’t make it to his desk before he was interrupted by Jimmy Olsen, who wore an assertive curious face.

“Did you guys really see the flying man?” he asked excitedly.

A self-conscious smile stretched on Clark. ‘Flying man’ isn’t really the kind of name he would have thought he was going to get.

“No, not really,” Clark said in a low voice, trying his hardest to sound conversational. “We only got a glimpse of it.”

“Aw, man,” Jimmy sighed. “So,” he said, changing to a lighter subject. “Working with Lois, huh?”

Clark let out a chuckle. “Yeah. She’s something.”

Jimmy scoffed lightly. “I’m sure that was fun.”

“What do you mean?”

Keeping in a smile, Jimmy said, “You know, she’s always on her feet, enough to drive you nuts.”

“Yeah, literally she drove nuts,” Clark nodded knowingly.

“Oh, let me guess—she dropped the F bomb.”

Clark smirked awkwardly and spoke knowingly, “More than once.”

Jimmy chuckled to himself. “Yeah, that’s her. There were times she drove me here before I found a way to get myself to work, and she said some curse words I never knew existed.”

Clark gave a look. All he could say after a few awkward seconds was, “wow.” He glanced back over to where Lois had gone. She was going through all those papers that belonged nowhere in an excited fashion. How does she keep up with all that?

“So, anyway, did security say anything on the ‘flying man’?” Jimmy asked.

“Not much,” Clark said. “They couldn’t get an I.D.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. If you ever get the chance of seeing him again, try and get me on the scene.”

“Yeah, will do,” Clark said casually.

As Jimmy walked back to his station like everyone else on the floor, Clark fell into his seat so impactful that it seemed as if he had fainted in place. Thankfully, nobody saw that.

A big part of him just wanted to lay his head on the desk and sleep, regardless if he’d be caught right then and there. He kept the rest of his focus on his desktop with the notes that he took from the airport. It would be so easy and tempting to submit a story for the _Daily Planet_ that he himself did this and write a personal experience. That would without a doubt give him the story of the year that Perry was itching for. Then again, he felt generous enough to have Lois to have her moment of writing something so big and so great in the paper like she said she always wanted. What would his parents say?

Clark then looked into his pocket for his phone. There were two missed calls and one voicemail. He listened to the voicemail that was coming from Jonathan.

“Clark,” said Jonathan’s voice. “I saw on the news that a ‘flying man’ saved an airplane from crashing. Son, I know it was you. Please pick up. Your mother and I are really worried about you. Please answer us.”

Clark removed himself from his desk and headed out of the room and out into a hallway that was outside. His fingers danced around the screen and dialed his father’s number.

* * *

Perry, Lois, Jimmy and the rest of the floor had their eyes glued to the overhead TV screen that overlooked the entire room. The image they were witnessing was a blurred zoomed-in, low resolution photo of something big and massive in the sky. The red banner underneath read, “BREAKING NEWS: UFO SPOTTED”.

The shape of the entire object was an oval. From what people could see, the underside of the object looked like a smooth flat bottom and seemed to have small bumps that stuck out. From those little bumps were tiny lights that were barely visible from the broadcast’s screen.

* * *

“Clark?” Jonathan’s voice spoke.

“Dad,” Clark confirmed. “Hey, sorry I couldn’t call you. I was in a meeting. And, uh . . . yeah, that was me. The plane. I did it.”

“Are you okay?” Jonathan’s voice asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Clark answered sincerely. He glanced around him to make sure no one could hear him. “I never realized how fast I really could fly until now. I can even fly faster than a jet! And I lifted the entire plane and carried it back to the airport with my own hands.” Clark’s tone settled down to uncertainty. “It was. . . it was amazing.”

“What’s on your mind?” Jonathan asked.

“I just. . .,” Clark began before forcing out a slight chuckle. “You know, for such a long time, I thought about what you said. About being there for other people. And after I found out what I could do to make that happen, I thought about what it would’ve been like. And you know, it’s . . . sometimes you think you have all the answers to something that you haven’t done before because you know how. But until you really do it, you don’t know what it’s like. It’s just overwhelming, you know?”

“I know. But it _has_ happened,” Jonathan said. “I know it’s tough, but I want you to remember this—you made a choice. And that choice will reflect on the kind of man that your mother and I hoped you would be ever since we first saw you. And we are so proud of you.”

Clark smiled widely as he lowered his head humbly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Your mother wants to talk to you,” Jonathan said, followed by a couple of seconds of silence before Martha’s voice appeared.

“Clark?” her voice said.

“Hey, mom,” Clark replied.

“You okay, honey?”

“I’m fine, Ma,” Clark said, knowing fully aware of how worried she would be. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Worrying is second nature to loving,” she reminded. “Did anyone see you out there? Do they know it was you?”

“Not that I know of.” He sighed. “It’s just . . . when I set the plane down and I saw everyone trying to look at me, all those eyes on me, I just flew away. You know, I thought I could handle it. But after they tried to get a look at me.” Clark hung his head before shaking his head. The memory and thought of how those people swamping him with demanding questions was haunting. “I don’t know.”

“Well, the first step is always the hardest,” Martha said. “We love you more than anything in the whole world. And you can be whoever you want to be. And remember what we told you a long time ago: once you start this, it’s not something you can just change—”

A loud shrilling static exploded in Clark’s ears. He cried out and dropped his phone onto the cold tile floor. He cupped both his hands with his ears as the effects of the sound still left a disorienting ring.

Amidst the unbearable shrill, a hidden muffled voice sounded. It almost sounded deep and robotic albeit disoriented. The screech covered it, but it was clear enough for it to be heard.

“ _You are not alone_.”

Clark turned his head as he heard the ominous words echo from his heightened hearing. The sound wasn’t soft either. It wasn’t too soft that he would have to listen very carefully to pick up. It sounded too loud almost as if it was a deafening announcement from the room where he had walked out of. And it definitely didn’t sound too friendly . . .

Clark re-entered the room to find that almost every single person in their cubicle had their eyes glued to their monitors. There was a mixture of panic and annoyance in the air. Clark could hear several co-workers ask angrily, “are we being shut down _again?”_

He looked ahead and noticed that Lois, Perry, Jimmy and several other co-workers looking at the large TV screen mounted on the wall.

The monitors no longer displayed news articles or Microsoft Word documents, but they were showing static. It was strange, but Clark then noticed what everyone was specifically looking at beyond the static images. Several people were also staring at their phones which almost had the exact same image that depicted the moving motion of the figure.

A figure that seemed to be the outline of a human was moving behind the static.

“ _You are not alone_ ,” the same familiar voice said.

The static on the screen gave the voice a robotic-sounding growl.

“ _You are not alone_. _My name is Dru-Zod of the Hand of Rao._ ”

Clark flinched as more words came to be.

_“I come from a far-away world. I have journeyed through an ocean of stars across the galaxy. Apparently, your world has kept one of my citizens and has sheltered it for decades. All I ask is that this lone individual be returned in my care. His birth name is Kal-El of Krypton.”_

Clark’s lips slightly parted, feeling his face whiten.

 _“If he is hearing this, then I have this to say: ‘Kal-El, son of Jor-El, reveal yourself to the Hand of Rao. By now, your planet has detected us, and you will know where to find us. Come to us. You have one full day. If not, we will search for you under a peaceful procedure._ _For Kal-El to be returned to me, I will descend upon your land with peaceful intentions. Any signs of aggression will be met with ours. This is not invasion; this is extraction. Kal-El, I ask for your cooperation. You have one full day, or we will search for you through a nonaggressive manner. Come to us, alone and you, rest assured, will be treated with charity and kindness.”_

The figure behind the grey speckles of the static seemed to have faded away. The static then flashed white for a couple of times before it vanished, and the monitors returned to their original status as if nothing happened.

Everyone started exchanging reactions of “what the hell was that?” or “what the hell is a ‘Kal-El’?”.

Clark’s face hadn’t changed. He felt his face drain and turn white as he was still processing what he had just heard from the uncanny figure from the monitors. He hadn’t heard the name “Kal-El” from anyone since that recorded message from his real parents in that rocket.

None of this was possible. He was told that the planet was destroyed. Did his father make a mistake? Maybe this ‘Zod’ had even more answers. He mentioned his father’s name. And what did he mean by ‘in my care’?

“Kent!” Lois’ voice startled him back to reality. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” Clark answered pensively.

He was unable to hear the rest of anything else that was said around him. His glasses began to fog as the base of his hair was starting to dampen. Judgements made an endless cycle replaying in his head about who this “Zod” was. Exposing himself out there was one thing, but the spontaneous message from someone out of this world would stir up a crowd. Clark feared that this would happen for a long time as one of his fantasies that potential survivors on Krypton would look for him.

Quickly thinking, he ran back to where he had last dropped his phone, which was thankfully away from the rest of the floor. He exited himself and found the phone face down on the floor. He redialed his parents’ number and eagerly waited for a response.

“Clark?” Jonathan’s voice came. Clark could sense his father’s tone and it sounded unnerving.

“Did you guys see that?” Clark asked.

“Yes, we did,” Jonathan said directly. “I’m not entirely comfortable with this. I'm not comfortable with the way he said we have one day to respond.”

Clark hesitated. He couldn’t help but silently agree under his breath. Zod’s appearance did cause a stir that Clark wasn’t hoping for when he wanted to reveal himself personally. "But, he's like me, Dad. This is probably the only chance I have to meet another one of my own kind. And he doesn’t know anything about us. I've been thinking about this for a long time ever since you told me where I'm from, wondering what it would've been like if my life was different. Even if there was a way to know from another point of view.”

"Clark—"

"l know you're scared," Clark interrupted. "l know. I am too. Everyone in the world just found out they're not alone. Now, I found out that _I’m_ not alone."

Clark took a deep breath. "And I'm so sorry that I brought this all on you."

"Clark," Martha said, "Listen to me, baby. None of this was ever your fault, do you understand? You were never a burden. You are a joy. You've always been the greatest gift that ever happened to us. And we couldn’t ask for a better child.”

"I know,” Clark said warmly. “You and Pa did the best you guys could do for me all my life up until now. This is my time now."

On the other end, nothing was said. A couple of seconds followed too much for Clark’s comfort.

"l promise you, I'm not leaving you," he said. "l don't even think I _could_.”

“It’s like I said long ago,” Jonathan assured softly with a hint of melancholy, “it’s your choice, son.”

“No matter what happens,” Martha added, “we’ll love you, no matter where you go.”

* * *

Lois darted her eyes around her surroundings at her desk. Luckily, people were way too busy scrambling around the office to even notice her. “When did you see this thing?” she quietly asked into her phone.

“We only got word of it just now,” Sam said on the other end. “And I don’t want you to try anything and go near it.”

“What exactly are you going to do?” Lois asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Sam responded sternly.

“Why?”

“You know damn well why. The minute I tell you, you’re gonna write about it, and how my office is inept about doing their jobs. And I’m sick of it. _We_ are sick of it.”

Lois scoffed. That was pretty much the reception she was expecting just like almost any other conversation between the two. But this was too important to even try and cover up. “I’m just trying to know what the hell my own father’s going to do. Not so I can write a third-grade essay on potential aliens.”

“And I already told you.”

Lois released another scoff. “So, you’re not even going to tell me?”

“That’s right,” Sam answered right afterward. “This is a national security emergency, not an investigation.”

The sound of an ended call chimed in Lois’ ears, followed by her releasing an exasperated breath. Typical. Cursing under her breath, she looked back up atf the monitor that focused on the object that had remained in the sky for a while now.

* * *

Back at his apartment, Clark was watching the same thing. The news report replayed the ominous message that Zod had announced. The anchormen reported that the ship was spotted high above the area out in the High Plains in Kansas, just hours away from Smallville. The camera alternated nearly every five seconds between the anchormen and the ship that hovered in the sky. Several eyewitnesses on the scene took notice and uploaded numerous videos of it on YouTube, claiming that aliens do exist. Many experts on the subject were interpreting their own theories. Some were saying that this was in fact an alien from outer space, some were saying that this was an ultimatum for invasion, and several vloggers were saying that this was either all an elaborate hoax or an omen for the end of the world.

Either way, Clark knew better. It was almost frightening to see him being called by another name of someone that would’ve lived a much different life than being a reporter. Yet, there was an odd warmth to know that there was someone who really knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to reveal himself. Despite the circumstances, Clark envied that bravery.

He looked into his closet and saw the one case that contained the rocket’s contents. Digging through, he reached for the three uniforms—one that resembled his father, his mother and the one that had more emphasis on blue.

He figured that it would make more sense for him to be wearing the uniform that none of his parents wore. Besides, he liked that one the most. As he pulled it out, he saw that it was just about the same size as the rest of his body. It didn’t seem to be affected by the time that had passed since its removal from the rocket. The ‘S’ shape on the front shined brightly from the angled light in the room, producing an inviting sensation. The redness of the cape was bright and thick enough to where it wasn’t transparent through light. The blue also shined along with the rest of the suit, revealing the subtle details of the texture that reached the entire body, except for the cuffs, which were wrapped by metallic bands that had a much smoother surface.

Slipping the outfit on, he found that it was just about skintight as if it was just another layer of skin. It felt extremely light and almost no weight to it. He expected the tight fit would bring an uncomfortable overheating, but it didn't. It felt neither cold nor hot on the inside, but rather more congenial to what his body was already adjusted to, including the boots. Once he straightened out the very few wrinkles, he walked over to the mirror and looked at himself. He looked quite fancy. The combination of the dominant blue and the bits of red and yellow gave the entire suit a colorful attire. The mighty red 'S' against the yellow background was saturated along with the rest of the saturated blue body. The thick red cloak hanged down to just right at his calves. He was also impressed with how the suit emphasized his muscles. The suit had compensated for his stomach muscles, leg muscles and even his arms.

Taking pride, he flexed his arms in front of the mirror smiling to himself. As he did this, the suit hadn't tightened, but instead accommodated his movement, much to his astonishment. Balling his hands into firm fists, he then placed them on his hips. The sight of his elegant stature forced a bright grin on his face. He then laughed to himself, thinking that it just occurred to him that he looked like a clownish version of Peter Pan in that stance.

Getting the high level of confidence out of his system, he then looked out at the window in heavy pensiveness and contemplation.

Outside, the day was still as clear as it was before while the sun was beginning its drop over the horizon, giving way for the oncoming five o' clock evening. The opportunity to soar right out the window wouldn't draw too much attention from Clark's calculations. An apartment would be far less conspicuous and obvious than an open airfield.

Plus, he would be flying across the country—a first time for him. Something he had always thought about doing ever since the day he discovered that was entirely possible. Saving people from dying, flying across the country, wearing his Kryptonian suit made for him all along, meeting someone like him? How could today get any more exciting?

He then looked behind him to watch the look of concern and uncertainty from the televised news reporters. Their talks about a "flying man" saving a plane were surely causing many to worry. But soon, Clark thought, they won't have anything to be afraid of. They'll be shown that he can be something great for other people.

Recovering from the uncertainty, Clark locked his focus back on the window. Opening the latch to the sill, he lifted the pane open, letting in some of the outside air, letting Clark wonder if the rushing wind would have any effect on him while wearing this Kryptonian suit, unlike where he felt the looseness of his dress shirt and pants were tugging at him from earlier.

 _Just fly really high up_ , Clark thought to himself. _As soon as you're up in the air, just take a sharp tum towards home and go as fast as you can_. With every readiness in himself, Clark slightly bent his knees, eyeing the open window sharply. He tightened every muscle in his body and prepared his arms—

His phone rang.

Clark nearly stumbled as the sudden noise deflated the tension. Letting out a frustrated and disappointed huff, he walked over to where his phone was jingling.

It was an unfamiliar number, but it did have the same area code of Metropolis. Curious, Clark slid his thumb on the answer option.

"Hello?" he answered wonderingly.

"Kent!" Lois' bellowing voice made Clark recoil. "Where the hell have you been? The entire floor is going nuts about this! Aliens are _landing!"_

"I know, Lois," Clark answered, feeling his forehead dampening. "I'm sorry. There was a family emergency, I'll explain later."

" _Kent_ ," Lois stressed.

"Lois," Clark spoke firmly. Quickly regretting the tone, he returned to his normal self, "I'm sorry, but there was something going on, and I really need you to trust me on this. I promise I'll explain it to you, but it’s really important to me right now."

"You better have a damn good reason, Smallville," Lois snarled before the chime of an ending call was heard.

As satisfying as that sound was, Clark resumed to his anxious self again, as many scenarios played out in his head. Lois wasn't stupid, and she definitely knew at this point that something was up. Sooner or later, she would have to be kept in the loop and it would be a wonder if she would be able to keep this a secret or would she have the audacity to report him right away. The phenomenon that he would be publicly exposed made him grimace. It would be frightening; everyone tugging at him, asking him endless questions about where he came from, why is he more powerful than everyone, why is he here . . . Either way, someone knew who he was, and it was time to meet him.

Huffing the negativity away, Clark looked back at the window and prepared himself again. Hoping for not another anticlimactic phone call, Clark rushed his stance this time and took off with a low boom that sent a small ripple of wind that where he once stood.

Holding his arms out for coordination, he steered away from the apartment building and began to shoot towards the southeast direction at a striking velocity. Clark was pleasantly surprised by how light and agile the suit made him feel as he soared through the air. He could barely feel the wind rushing through the Kryptonian uniform. No tugging; except for the end of the cape, which barely tapped at his calves.

It felt much different than all the other times he had from those practicing nights in his childhood and earlier today when stopping a plane crash. There was more freedom and more independence. This newfound sensation encouraged him to branch out on what else he was capable of. He only had a "full day", after all. With the leverage of his arms, Clark rolled, performing a complete barrel roll and spun. He exclaimed excitedly as he spun faster than he had anticipated and rotated himself over and over again like a roller-coaster. After he regained control of himself, he steadied himself back with his front face the earth below.

Next, Clark tried to go for a complete loop. He steered his arms and body upward and began to move upward. Keeping his arms in the same position, he kept turning and turning until he was completely upside down, facing the planet's blue ceiling. Eventually, he was back on his stomach once more, smiling brightly to himself. He then had another idea. A rather bold idea.

He repeated the same motion he made with his arms and began to rise once more. This time, when he faced the ceiling of the Earth, he steered forward and darted upward. After bursting through a patch of clouds, he made his way further, wondering if he would ever feel the lack of oxygen as he neared the barrier between space and Earth. So far, he felt nothing. He was worried but the temptation and amount of energy he was feeling was too great to back down.

Soon, the light blue of daylight began to gradually fade away into a blackened environment. Tiny white speckles of distant stars came into view against the black empty void of space. Clark looked beneath him and saw the blue sphere of planet Earth at his feet. As he looked more around him, he could make out the entire continent of North America as well as the sides of several other continents, all of which were thinly layered by several clouds. In front of him was nothing but twinkling stars that dazzled in the enchanting darkness.

Clark let out an incredulous laugh. _Awesome! I can breathe in space!_ he thought to himself.

Since he had gone this far, he thought that he could try and fly towards the moon. He could walk on the moon and hang out there all day. He could travel to other nearby planets like Venus or Mars!

Figuring he had enough, he dove back into the planet's atmosphere. Soon enough, the warmth of Earth's atmosphere consumed him, but Clark felt no burns and his Kryptonian suit suffered none as well. Clark's surroundings turned brighter as he plummeted back to where the sea of clouds flowed.

As he returned to his regular pattern of facing ahead with his arms in front of him, he increased his speed and darted further toward the direction of Kansas state.

At one point, he peeked out below him and could make out several notable observations. He saw several forests and large bodies of water that belonged to a lake or river.

Tempted, he dove towards the water and was thankful that there wasn't anyone nearby. Or at least from what he saw. He slowed himself down just so he wouldn't pass over the whole lake at once as his front was about an inch or two away from the mirrored surface. He could feel the water slightly spray against him as his flight made a cutting wave on the water. He laid out one hand, careful of not breaking his trajectory and held it flat where his palm almost tapped the surface. Lowering his hand, we could feel his hand permeate and move through the water. The sensation gave Clark a beaming pleasure.

This feeling of absolute freedom was a lot like the same as it was on the night he first flew away from home and how he would admire the sight of being so high up. It was the same as it always had been since the day he decided it was best to be solo.

"So, it's true what they say."

The sudden voice cost Clark's concentration. The voice wasn’t something picked up from a faraway distance where his heightened hearing could detect. It was clear as day. Flailing, Clark lost all balance and crashed through the water's surface. Returning to the surface, Clark looked up, and his heart skipped a beat.

He was looking at a fairly attractive middle-aged woman who was suspended in midair by nearly a meter or two away from the water's wet floor. Her short black hair nearly covered her sharp looking gaze. She had her arms folded and wore an expression that felt some pity to his clumsiness. She was also wearing a uniform that looked much like his, only there was no cape. The suit was all black and bore a different looking symbol than Clark's on her chest. From what it looked like, the symbol was a heavily slanted 'U' shape, with the ends bent opposite of each other as if it resembled an abstract image of a horseshoe.

"A G-type star _can_ enhance our physiology,” she said with a tone that said that she was impressed by herself.

Clark was too overwhelmed to get any kind of response out from his lips. His head felt frozen from any other kind of thought. So, _this_ is a female Kryptonian in the flesh. Except she wasn’t wearing white robes like he figured Kryptonians would wear.

"Is this an Earthian language?" she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows.

Clark blinked back into reality but was still stunned. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"My name is Ursa," she answered.

"I'm guessing you're with the Hand of Rao?" Clark asked.

"Indeed," Ursa smirked. "General Zod has been searching for you."

"'Zod'?" Clark raised his eyebrows. "Is he still over Kansas?"

"No," Ursa said before making a disturbed face, "he's here on Earth. I’m not aware of a crudely named planet known as ‘Can’s Ass.’”

Clark shook his head at this silly misunderstanding. "No. _Kan-sas_ , the state, you know . . . uh, never mind. I'm Clark—” He caught himself and then said with poise, “I mean, Kal-El. Son of Jor-El."

Ursa lifted her head slightly back as if her expression was a face of admiration. She then raised her wrist to her mouth. "General, we've located him."

“Are you sure?” a voice said.

“Yes,” Ursa said. “He wears the House of El’s refugee uniform.”

"I see," a voice said. “Good then. Bring him to me."

Returning to Clark, she said, "Kal-El, son of Jor-El, me. General Zod wishes your presence."

"Wait," Clark said as he rose out of the water and met the same altitude as her. "I have many questions. So, you're from the planet, Krypton?"

Ursa broke him off. "I know you have many questions, Kal," she said holding up a hand. "But rest assured, General Zod will answer whatever questions you may have concerning your heritage.

“But you are from Krypton," Clark pressed.

"Yes," Ursa replied easily. "As are you, I'm sure you've discovered."

"Yeah, long time ago," Clark said. "When I was a kid."

"Yes," Ursa understood. "Come with me, Kal. Follow me. And . . . I trust you will not fall again?"

Clark shrugged and fibbed, "still haven't gotten used to it."

"All in good time," Ursa said in confidence. "Follow me." She turned around before ascending and flew off.

Clark hesitated as he was impressed with how Ursa was handling her flying. No arms were out in front of her for coordination, except they were at her sides. Clark proceeded with his arms-out formation and followed her.


	10. Chapter 10

General Dru-Zod stared out of the window. The glassy plain was large enough to nearly fill out the entire wall where he looked out. The entire room was lit with a very light blue atmosphere, as opposed to the black absence of worlds and emptiness of space. This felt nice for a change. It certainly felt more peaceful than many other planets he had already visited. From an aesthetic point of view, Earth was even more beautiful than their ship’s databases indicated. He was told that the planet was a mix of land and ocean, a perfect balance. He favored Krypton’s wider variety of landscapes, but it was still admirable to see what else the universe was capable of.

His long ancestry was responsible for conquering, but they never stopped to look and admire the world that would then belong to them. It was maddening that the Lawmakers wouldn’t allow them to expand themselves beyond their own planet. It was, however, refreshing that their technology did also include the durability and capabilities of their warships. It could’ve led to a return of their conquests with that kind of innovation. More worlds to explore and have that ownership over it. If only they were more dogmatic. But now, that’ll never happen. He could never know.

An elderly man approached the room. He spoke in a non-alarming voice so that he wouldn’t break his General’s concentration. “General.”

Zod spun around. “Yes, Jax-Ur. What is it?”

“Ursa and Kal are approaching us. They should be entering our vicinity within fifty minutes, sir.”

Fifty minutes. That’s impressive. Last he checked in with Ursa’s location, she was approximately 1,300 miles away, which would take such a long time to get over there without the velocity of this ship. That G-type star really was a miracle for them.

“Very good,” Zod said. “Prepare the main hangar room. I want Kal to enter through a graceful entrance. Prepare for their arrival.”

“Right away, sir.”

* * *

Ursa flew at a wild speed. Luckily, Clark was able to keep up with her, but he wanted to mind his distance between the two of them. He was impressed by how she was able to easily preserve her course without the use of her arms, unlike him. He imagined that he’d have to try that one day after everything was settled.

He was concerned as Ursa was flying at a much lower altitude than he had planned. The ground below them was no higher than how a regular airplane would ascend. At this rate, it would be easy for them to be noticed, even by innocent bystanders.

"We should fly high up,” Clark called out to her. “No one will see us up there.”

"You care for these people?" Ursa cried through the air and sounded both curious and amused.

"Of course, I do," Clark answered. "I was raised here." Ursa nodded to herself as if to understand him. "Very well then.”

Soon enough, both of them increased their altitude and they were above the clouds once more but not enough to reach outside of the atmosphere.

"Satisfied?" Ursa said in a tone that made Clark feel uneasy.

Clark gave an untrusting, "Yes. Thank you."

That minor dispute offered Clark uncertainty. He knew that his father displayed a feeling of love and compassion, which is what he was hoping and looking forward to from the rest of his kind, only this was not at all what he expected. Every nerve in him was tugging at him to be on his guard in case she did something they would regret.

The rest of the flight seemed to be forever as Clark his eye on this mysterious stranger that was supposedly from where he came from. She never said another word and seemingly kept her mind on their destination across the entire north American continent.

For what seemed like half an hour, at least according to Clark, his eyesight picked up the large object that was exactly displayed from tie TV screens. Clark's eyes widened as he saw that it was bigger than what he had in mind when he first saw on TV.

From what he could make out, the ship itself was bigger than the plane from earlier. Though, Clark could calculate that this only a little bigger than that. Its depth had a thicker build, compensating the large dome that was mounted above.

"Looks bigger than I thought," Clark observed.

"You were expecting less?" Ursa called back.

“Been having trouble with that for a long time,” Clark responded casually.

Ursa said nothing else as she then took a gradual tum and aiming herself at the ship's bottom portion. As Clark mimicked, he saw where they were heading.

There was an opening at the direct center of the lower portion of the ship. A little ramp had been extended outward in thin air as it was the seemingly only way for it to be open. There were two humanoid figures on each side of the opening with their hands behind their backs and looking directly ahead. Clark observed that they were wearing the exact colors as Ursa’s uniform and had different symbols on their chests, compensating for their Houses. Unlike Ursa, they were both wearing plated armor that covered their bodies. Their faces weren’t completely covered as only their eyes were revealed. From what Clark could tell, the Kryptonians on both sides of the door almost dropped their guarding stance. He sensed their astonished looks at him.

Following Ursa’s lead, Clark eased himself, manipulating his altitude to where it would be right where the opening’s floor would end to nowhere. As his feet met a flat surface, he looked around him in awe.

The interior of the ship was vast. There were two staircases on both sides of the room that led up to the same upper ledge on the opposite side of the room where Clark stood. The staircase and ledge were barricaded with fancy looking rails. The constant tone blue, which was altered from the lighting, producing many different shades. From what he could tell, Clark was walking on a sophisticated kind of metal, but the texture of the surface heavily resembled glass. The floors were heavily shimmering, giving no indication that anything had walked upon them. The same kind of thick glassy material covered the walls and ceiling which created a silvery blue aura that would glare at Clark’s eyes whenever he was at a certain angle. Beneath the glassy surfaces was a somewhat transparent whiteness like a still fog.

He felt as if he was walking through a strange looking museum. An impossible museum that showed the existence of a civilization that was supposed to have been completely destroyed. Jor-El was right—it seemed that their technology really had climbed through the years, thanks to his ancestors. Shame that this was probably the only thing left of everything they’ve built.

One of the two Kryptonians standing on the side of the open doorway pressed a button and the ramp raised itself and closed back into the ship, leaving no daylight within the room. The light of the entire room then illuminated a harsh dark cerulean environment. Clark’s red and yellow “S” on his chest had turned into an altered tint as the rest of his blue suit hadn’t changed.

Standing at the center of the ledge overlooking the entire room was another Kryptonian.

This particular Kryptonian stood out from all the others for one blunt trait—there was no armor covering his face, revealing himself. There was, however, a different kind of armor that covered the rest of his body that separated himself from all the others Clark had already seen. This one was wearing an expression that said that he was pleased. Judging his expression and different looking uniform, Clark had already made the assumption that this was the person who called him.

“General,” Ursa announced as they got just right about close to where he was.

Yep.

“Kal-El.” Ursa informed before she positioned herself away from Clark.

The man’s eyebrows were raised, and the corners of his mouth gently creaked up. He looked about middle-aged due to some noticeable silver in the darkness of his beard and goatee.

The man grinned brightly as if he was watching a loved one returned.

“He lives!” he exclaimed cheerfully.

Rolling his shoulders back and merely smiling back, Clark spoke in a deep and calm manner, “I take it you’re Zod?”

“ _General_ Zod,” Ursa hissed. “And you will speak when you are spoken to.”

Zod’s smile turned calm and he held up a hand. “At ease, Ursa. He is a stranger to our ways.” His tone changed to a neighborly announcement. “This is no cause for conflict. This is cause for celebration.”

Zod turned to one staircase that would bridge between him and Clark and held a face of admiration. “Son of Jor-El,” he said as he held out his arms as if presenting him.

Clark felt a warming relief. At least he seemed more friendly than that global message.

“It took us a long time to find you after all these years,” Zod said. “It brings me great happiness to see you safe and sound as we hoped you’d be.” His eyes lingered all over Clark. “Seeing you standing and wearing your family’s coat of arms . . .,” He shook his head in fascination. “You look so much like your father. Truly remarkable.”

Smiling and almost feeling his face flush, Clark maintained his placating demeanor before saying, “I have so many questions. I’m afraid I don’t even know where to begin.”

Zod dropped the excited expression. “Yes,” he continued in a friendly manner, “I’d imagine you would. Come with me. I have a many great things to explain to you.”

Zod turned around and faced the door behind him. Clark cautiously ascended the staircase as he felt a tugging shudder rushing through him, unsure if it was the feeling of being in a place that was too much to take in or it was the air itself. It did at least feel much cooler when the door close, but Zod’s company did bring a winsome cure to that. He maintained his tall posture and displayed a confident demeanor as he proceeded after Zod.

He shifted his eyes all around him, catching more and more glimpses of the interior. The rooms had the same peaceful blue serenity that emitted from the walls. It was clear that the other rooms served specific purposes. One room had, what looked like tables. Clark assumed that was either a sitting room or some sort of restaurant area. Other rooms included several large windows that looked out into the vast void of black space, accompanied by the glittering stars.

He passed by several other Kryptonians, who stopped and stared at him with their eyes peering from their armor locked onto him. Their eyes lit up at the sight of him followed by barely audible excited whispers of “he lives! The son of Jor-El lives!”

Clark’s heart pounded in excitement at the mention that he was recognized and addressed by his true inheritance. He almost felt like he was a completely different man than the six-foot friendly guy at the Daily Planet who just started his first day on the job. It felt so different than being recognized by Jonathan or Martha’s relatives, who greeted him as “Clark”. He had never felt so far from home since leaving Smallville for Metropolis. Then again, what _was_ home?

“Taking a liking to our ship’s structure, I see,” Zod observed.

Mesmerized, Clark answered, “it’s impressive.”

“It’s exterior is made of an ancient ore that has been harvested many generations ago. It was called ‘kryptonite’. The kryptonite crystals held large amounts of energy that we’ve used for many purposes. While radioactive and at times unstable, they’ve helped our planet’s renewability as well as providing stronger ships.”

“Were there any other ships like this back on Krypton?”

“One of many,” Zod answered enthusiastically. “This was one of our finest vessels back in our once strong military. Large in mass, durable in armor and exceptional in combat. We were lucky to acquire it before the planet’s destruction. Thanks to the core, our vessel has been more powerful than anything else we’ve had in our arsenal.”

Clark cocked his head. “Core?”

“Follow me,” Zod said with a knowing look.

After quick minutes of passing through more hallways, Zod led Clark to another room that made a large distinction from all the others.

Both of them were standing on a platform that overlooked what Clark would assume this was the engine room judging by the abundance of large metal constructions that resembled pipes. Several Kryptonians were walking around on the lower levels to supervise the machinery, checking its readings.

seemed to have a large machine right at where the floor and wall met. The massive machinery had several tube-like structures spread outwards in a web-like pattern and reached the ceiling at different points as if the center piece had rooted within the wall. At the heart of the apparatus was a near dim blue light. It glowed brighter, then it dimmed again in a rhythmic fashion as if it was pulsating.

“I’m guessing this is the engine?” Clark observed.

Zod’s sociable style shifted to a more solemn tone. “Yes. One that we’ve constructed. Years ago, we discovered that your emergency shuttle sent out a beacon upon activation.”

“Activation?”

“Your emergency shuttle activated upon your touch, did it not?” Zod asked as if it was rhetorical.

“Yes, it did,” Clark said. “It showed me an image of my real parents. The House of El.”

Zod nodded before his frown became more obvious. “After Krypton was destroyed, we believed for a long time that we were the sole survivors. We watched from afar as the entire planet burned in an instant. So many people gone in a second . . . including your parents.”

Clark took a silent sad deep breath. Even as he already knew this since the beginning, he felt Zod’s words hit him.

Zod looked at Clark with deep sympathy. “I’m sorry, Kal. But once we detected a beacon that was activated when you touched your emergency shuttle, we had hope that what was left of Jor-El’s legacy was still out there. Thus, our journey across the universe began. It took us many years, but our patience never died.” He gestured his head towards the large machine with the pulsating light.

“We knew that our ship would take a lifetime to reach this planet, so we constructed a phantom drive for our engines. “This device,” he explained, “the phantom drive allows passengers to venture through black holes and theoretically through the Phantom Zone.”

Clark cocked his head.

“The Phantom Zone is a dimension. Or rather, a gap between. It’s a barren world where time and space are irrelevant. It’s also used as a prison for Kryptonian capital punishment.”

Deeply fascinated with this alien technology, Clark kept his eyes where the pulsing light would send signals everywhere else as if it was a brain sending electric signals throughout a body.

“I advise not to touch it,” Zod smirked as if catching a mischievous child. “While it’s very powerful, it’s also unstable. The slightest damage would cause a singularity. Thankfully, we’ve had the proper protection for it. Without that, it could forcibly pull someone or other lifeforms into the Phantom Zone. I had hoped that with the use of the phantom drive, I would find other Kryptonian survivors. It sustained our aging, giving us an advantage of living longer to find other Kryptonians who may have fled to our former outposts.” Zod then lowered his head in sorrow before facing Clark again. “You, along with us, are all Krypton has left.”

Clark darted his eyes around at the realization. He had only counted a little more than ten Kryptonians onboard, excluding himself, and that was all there was left.

Gathering the courage to speak, Clark asked, “what happened?”

“Our planet was under attack,” Zod said as Clark’s face opened more to his words. “We were invaded by these metallic creatures. Their ship remained outside of our airspace for a period of time before they began their assault. Many innocents were slaughtered. Before they attacked, your father and I proposed to our government that we should act by mobilizing our military. Only they didn’t. They just continued their pointless squabbling of protocol and traditional values. And so, we had no choice but to take matters into our own hands. By the time we confronted our superiors, we were too late. We were forced to fight for our lives. I didn’t see it happen but seeing how you managed to survive, your parents must have taken you and placed you in an emergency shuttle.”

Clark grimaced before asking, “How’d _you_ survive?”

“As they attacked our council chambers, we retreated to this ship in the desperate hopes to fight off against our attackers. But we’ve never seen an unstoppable force like that before. Our advanced weaponry proved ineffective. In nearly an instant, they wiped out the capital city of Kandor. We were defeated and retreated away from the planet. It soon became clear that leaving the planet’s atmosphere was the reason we survived.” Zod’s frown tightened in anguish. “Soon after, Krypton burned.”

Zod’s eyes turned watery and blinked to fight the emotion. “So many people who weren’t even in the Kandor city. . .”

Clark noticed that Zod was no longer wearing a face of regret, but now a face of frustration and guilt.

Zod sauntered his head away. “We lost our planet because we didn’t do enough.”

“What was it like?” Clark asked hoping to ease the pain. “Krypton.”

Zod’s sadness turned into a passionate countenance. “It was beautiful, son of Jor-El. More than Earth, in fact. It had many landscapes much like your planets, only more captivating. It had glistening mountains whose shine was as bright as these walls that met the eye from miles away. The mines and caves where the kryptonite materials were discovered were just as beautiful. There was also the bright cliffs of Fire Falls, which would light up the entire mountainside at night. Our planet was located on the southern side of the constellation of Corvus. According to our trajectory, Earth is located about twenty-seven light-years away from where Krypton was.”

“So, who are you?” Clark asked informally. “I know that you’re General Zod, but who were you on Krypton? The time before.”

“My full name is Dru-Zod,” he said before boasting modestly, “I was Krypton’s highest ranked General of our once mighty army. I was stationed in the Capital city of Kandor at Fort Rozz, where I served Krypton and its beauty for so many years as the House of Zod did.” He raised a hand, gesturing towards Ursa. “My wife whom you’ve met has been with my side and assisted my views for Krypton. Her bloodline goes back a long way. A noble family of grandiose nobility and undying ambitions. Her, ah, tenaciousness in her goals come with a sense of. . .” Zod's expression turned to a grin as if he was about to get to the punchline of a joke. “. . . superiority.”

Ursa’s corners of her mouth stretched upward as if making a flirting smile.

Clark gave an awkward smirk.

It was slightly unnerving that Zod found amusement that his wife may or may not have held a certain kind of prejudice against any other kind of race. It at least explained Ursa’s callousness towards Clark’s views on humans.

Zod’s smile faded away as his returned to look at Clark. “I can only observe that you were raised here among Earthians. Is this true?”

“Correct,” Clark answered. “I was raised by a loving couple who accepted me. Only they knew who I really was.”

“And by now, you know of the Earth’s sun and its influences on you,” Zod stated.

“My father called it a ‘G-type star’,” Clark answered. “What is that? Does Krypton have that too?”

“No. The planet orbited around Rao, an M-type red star. As you know, the star around Earth is a G-type star, which has unnatural effects on a Kryptonian. Krypton’s sun is a red solar-powered star. An M-type star to be exact. Like Earth’s nearby G-type, it helps sustain life and light on our planet, albeit at a lower temperature. Though, our sun has a red solar energy source with natural effects on any Kryptonian, a yellow G-type’s star’s radiation effects a Kryptonian genetic code at a more reactive rate than an Earthian’s. I must say, flight was a trait none of us considered. I’m impressed, Kal.”

“You never knew about any of this?” Clark raised his brows. “The effects on Kryptonians?”

“All we ever knew is that the altered Kryptonian’s exposure to a G-type star was higher endurance and augmented strength. Beyond that was unknown until now. We’ve never had the resources to travel anywhere else as we saw fit that Krypton was our one and only concern.”

Clark’s only response was a nod in comprehension. “Has any Kryptonian been to Earth?”

“Perhaps a long time ago, though there are only echoes of the past that indicated yes.”

Zod’s face went blank and said in an examining tone, “So, you hid yourself from the rest of the world.”

“Yes,” Clark answered modestly. “That is, until today. There was a plane. On this planet, there’s a ship that is meant to carry passengers around the planet. It started crashing, so I disregarded my Earth identity for a brief moment. Still, nobody knows who I am down there.”

Zod nodded. “Yes. We’ve looked into your radios and communication wavelengths all around the planet. From my understanding, the Earthians have given you a name in your honor. ‘Flying Man’, was it?”

Clark returned an embarrassed smirk. “Not my idea.”

“It’s almost as if they worship you like a god,” Zod said with a tone that indicated admiration.

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘worship’ at the moment.”

Zod studied Clark closer. “Tell me, do they _fear_ you?”

Clark frowned as he took in Zod’s words. “To be honest, I don’t really know what they think of me. I wanted to be someone who represents what my parents would’ve wanted. Someone who can help other people who can’t help themselves.” His face turned away. “I don’t know if that would mean people would have to be afraid of me for that.”

“So, you really care for these Earth people,” Zod further studied.

“Of course, I do. I lived among them, I grew up there, I was raised there, and I know the way they think.”

Zod furred his brows in fascination “I see.”

Clark didn’t know what to make of that response. Hopefully, it wasn’t some sort of subtle prejudice disgust. “My father,” Clark proceeded. “What did you know about him?”

“Ah. Brilliant man he was just like many of his ancestors. The House of El has a long history of provision for our planet. He had a heavy voice in our laws and moralities, though no House would ever compare to his contribution to our research and technology. His position in the Kryptonian Science Council gave us so many benefits and resources while I heeded his advice. Had it not for him and his forefathers, our planet wouldn’t be how it was. He and I also shared the idea that Krypton needed better protection.”

“Protection?” Clark cocked his head.

Zod fastened his sight at Clark. “Which is why I’ve come to make a proposal to you, Kal.”

Clark’s brows tightened in puzzlement.

“This planet of yours,” Zod said. “Earth . . . How well protected is it?”

Clark’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The planet, Kal,” Zod reiterated. “How well protected is it?”

Clark lightly shrugged. “It has me. I’ve already saved lives today. Aside from that, we have militaries from all around the world. Why do you ask?”

Zod slowly approached him. “Do they have military ships?”

Clark had an uneasy feeling in his stomach from that question; he could feel his pulse escalating. “We have ships that travel on sea, land and smaller ones that fly.”

“Are any capable of space travel?”

“We only have several that can. Even then, they’re not used for military use. They’re only used for exploration.”

“What sort of weapons do you have? Do they have massive destructive capabilities?”

These expedient questions were now giving Clark a cold chill, and there was no end in sight. “The most destructive we have are nuclear weapons. But even then, they produce radiation that would surely kill millions of innocent people, so we’re restrictive on using them.” Clark’s tone turned direct. “General, why are you asking this?”

Lowering his head, Zod said, “If you are all that is required for protection, then my judgement is that they are not protected enough. Just like on Krypton, they are vulnerable. Those attackers, Kal, they were unbeatable even by our own native weapons. Now, that the G-type star has enhanced us, we can protect this planet that you’ve stayed on your whole life.”

“‘We’?” Clark asked. “Are you saying you want to help?”

“I’m asking for an alliance, yes. With your efforts and the Hand of Rao, we can give Earth a strong guard. My ancestors in the House of Zod have long served Krypton for so centuries that our technology grew and far beyond anything we could’ve ever imagined. From what we’ve been reading, Kal, your world’s technology is commendable at best, but obsolete in comparison to ours. Our alliance would grant Earth a new era of scientific advancement.”

Clark felt a warmth of comfort. Facing the rest of the world solo felt impossible. More people like him standing shoulder to shoulder would ease the weight of being unalike with humanity. He thought to himself that he could be some sort of ambassador for the Hand of Rao and tell the rest of the world that there would be no need to be afraid of other world strangers. Then again, there were some other world strangers that did warrant fear from what was described.

“What were these invaders?” Clark asked.

“Their origin was and remained unclear. But they were metal creatures as tall as we. A kind of metal that we’ve never seen and nigh impenetrable. Capable of mass slaughter.”

“You really believe they’ll be back?” Clark studied him. “Here on Earth?”

“I’m unsure,” Zod answered morbidly. “But we can’t assume they won’t ever come here. If they are capable of destroying a planet, then we can’t just disregard this.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Clark asked.

“We take this knowledge to these Earthians. You and I will notify them what happened to our planet. With my familiarity of these invaders, they’ll have no choice but to mobilize their entire defenses. Kryptonians and Earthians will ally against whatever foreign forces will combat us. Our planet may be gone, but Earth can be our refuge and new foundation.”

“That may not be easy,” Clark warned. “These humans aren’t familiar to people like us. Not even me, at least as of now.”

Zod cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I only exposed myself among them just today. Now, they’re not sure what to make of me. They don’t know if I’m good or bad. Now, you’re here and want to make a case with a world you don’t know. If we’re going to warn them, then we’ll have to do it openly and diplomatically. We have to give the impression that we’re not hostile. Even then, they’re not just going to believe you just like that. It’ll take time before people are adjusted to what we have to say, let alone us.”

“We have no time for political plays, son of Jor-El,” Zod said, his tone unchanged. “If what you say is true, and that they aren’t familiar to us, then they’ll have us questioned, interviewed,” he then said bitterly, “ _studied._ We are talking about preparation, not foreign relations. The last time I tried to warn a body of government, I was unheeded, and our planet died along with the rest of my people. I can’t take that risk again. The longer we delay, the more time our enemy has to mobilize. That, I promise you.”

“I’m not unheeding you,” Clark said firmly. “I’m letting you know that you wouldn’t be able to make your case this easily. From where I was raised, these people aren’t going to react to you lightly. You need to make some sort of contact with them—”

“My only form of contact I was willing was the request of your presence on this planet,” Zod interrupted bitterly. “I will see that results be produced to me immediately with no equivocations.”

“General,” Clark calmed, trying to conceal his impatience. “If you go in and try to say something right here and right now, then you’ll have more concerns than whatever’s out there.”

“Then tell me, Kal-El,” Zod exclaimed, “what is more concerning than the inevitability of your own home exploding to oblivion?”

“The General has spoken, Kal,” Ursa joined in. “his decision is made, and you will abide by it.”

“Look,” Clark said, holding out his hands before talking smoothly. “Just let me go down there. They already know I exist. I can talk to them. Just give me some time.”

“We don’t have time,” Zod raised his voice. “The kind of hostilities that Krypton has faced will not have any time to spare. If there was any intermediate danger out there, no matter the distance, you can bet there’ll be consequences.”

“So, you’re just going to pop up without a word.” Clark accused, before approaching Zod with a warning stare. “If you do this without their consent, then you’ll have two problems to deal with.”

Zod’s stern face quickly changed to calmer while maintaining a demanding expression. “You’re right,” he said.

Clark was at first alarmed by this sudden change of voice until he was caught off guard as he was pulled back by two Kryptonians who locked their arms around his. Their grip was brutal, courtesy of the G-type star that gave them this capacity. Before Clark could motion himself for a flight, Ursa sprinted from behind. He didn’t see it happen, but she swung a swift and vicious elbow at his temple. Clark knew nothing more . . .

Clark’s vision was blurry. Only at first. The first thing that caught his still recovering attention was a faint high-pitched screech, followed by a bright light. As everything sharpened, Clark felt that he was lying on his back. Shaking his head into reality, he could see several figures moving in front of him. He tried motioning himself but found it difficult, particularly his arms and legs. He looked and saw that his wrists and ankles have been restrained onto a large table. The light above him was indeed an overhead light that leered blindingly at him.

Clark struggled against the restraints, but they wouldn’t budge, even from a growling pull.

“Don’t bother,” Zod said as he approached from the side. “The cuffs were constructed with a concentrated material of kryptonite. Its radiation was known to have degraded enhanced physiology. There’s no need to struggle.”

Ceasing to fight, Clark looked up. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, Kal,” Zod said meekly. “But Earth is in dire need of protection. Otherwise, it will be destroyed just like Krypton.”

He leaned in closer. “Is that what you want? If there was a chance to prevent that from happening, would you take it?”

Clark huffed angrily. “So, these invaders killed Krypton, and now you want to do the _exact same thing_ they did to Earth?”

“Correction,” Zod answered, narrowing his eyes. “They _slaughtered_ our people. _We_ merely took matters into our own hands by revolutionizing your planet’s military structure to prepare for an imminent invasion that would, rest assured, Kal, kill everyone you love!”

“Just let me talk to them,” Clark insisted.

Zod scoffed dryly. _“Talk"_. Walking away from Clark, he said, “You all think that talking is the solution when you have an action that is waiting for you to take.”

“You don’t even know who these people are!” Clark shouted. “This isn’t your world, it’s theirs. They deserve to know what is out there, but it has to be on grounds for agreement.”

Zod’s tone turned calmer. “Or they would resent us and they, along with us, could face annihilation,” Zod spat. “I am done debating this with you, son of Jor-El. This planet that you care about so much will be under my experienced protective guard and each world leader will agree either by choice or force. Any who rebel will be terminated under my authority. The honor of the House of Zod will be reestablished, and you’ll see that Earth will have a new glorious empire. Bigger than any other in its history.”

Clark couldn’t believe the severity of what he was propositioning. “You’re talking about a global totalitarian regime.”

“Your father would’ve agreed.”

“I don’t believe you!”

This made Zod’s brows rise.

“My father’s message told me that the House of El was supposed to stand for nobility and aspiration, the same kind of ideology that helped shape Krypton for centuries. And I don’t believe for one second that you would think that he’d go along with you.”

Zod’s only response was a silent calculation. Clark looked deep into Zod’s expression and he couldn’t help but feel that there was more to the story. A flicker of anger rose deep within Clark. “Did you kill him?”

“Murder!” Zod shouted incredulously. “You accuse me of murder? The murder of a man with common views?”

“Tell me the truth,” Clark said sternly. “Did you kill him or not?”

“No!” Zod blinked before he took a deep breath. Then he continued in a tranquil tone, “but I can see there’s no deceiving you, Kal. Indeed, he did speak against my suggestions. It was only I, along with the Hand of Rao, who spoke against the Councilmen. He stood by the Lawmakers, who stood by _nothing_. And that hesitation from your father cost him his life, let alone _billions_. Had we mobilized sooner, and those damned Lantern fascists hadn’t nullified our expanded empire, there could’ve been a chance to fight off those monsters,” he finished bitterly.

An aggressive approach wasn’t working. Clark changed his strategy and spoke sympathetically. “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know how that feels. But that doesn’t mean that anyone else has to be forced into cooperating. This isn’t honoring my father. He will despise you for this. Do you understand me?”

Zod approached slowly with an emotionless face that almost gave Clark a shudder. “When I am Earth’s protector, you will see it our way.”

“Please,” Clark said. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this alone. Help me resolve this peacefully. No one has to get hurt. They don’t need to be frightened.”

“They won’t be,” Zod answered calmly. “My objective isn’t a grab for power. It’s security. There was a time when Krypton had one of the mightiest armies in the galaxy. Now, its necessity is more relevant than _ever_ before.”

He turned around and walked away towards the empty doorway. Anger rose again in Clark, but he rolled his head over on one side in defeat for anything to react.

“You’ll see soon Kal,” Zod continued walking away, “that this will be all for our people alike. Earth won’t meet Krypton’s fate and Krypton will be avenged. Kryptonians and Earthians band together.” He faced Clark as he placed himself on the other side of the doorway. “Embrace it.”

“Untie me!” Clark demanded.

“Don’t waste your time, Kal. Those binds will only lower your strength to a mere man. We’ve prepared for everything. The sun’s power has forsaken you.”

Clark then got an idea. It was a longshot, but there was no other choice, even if he was unsure this would work. “Then what’d you do for heat vision? _”_

Zod cocked his head and was caught off guard by this question.

Clark’s eyes glowed red before shooting thin red lines. The beams met the link between the slab and the binds that held him.

Zod’s eyes widened in shock. The bonds were supposed to block enhanced strength. What is this new ability?

Clark aimed his focus on the rest of the bonds of his body until they were reddened. They didn’t break, but Clark felt them weaken enough.

As he felt this, Clark quickly rolled over, feeling the bonds in his links snap off easily like tissue paper. As he was rolling off the table, Clark grabbed a hold of one of the guards and tackled him to the floor.

Feeling his strength returning, Clark stood up and levitated himself a foot or two above the floor. The rest of their guards aimed their firearms at Clark, who wondered if those types of weapons would have any kind of effect on him.

“Kal!” Zod insisted, holding out a hand. “Don’t do this. You don’t understand.”

Clark glared. Now, _he’s_ begging him to stop?

“I understand enough,” he said in a low growl before launching himself into the air and breaking through the ceiling. The metal of the ship felt harder to penetrate through than Clark realized. It felt much stronger than the piece of the plane he crashed through earlier.

Once he found that he was outside of the ship, he found that he was surrounded by the immense ambience of space. As he looked and saw that the ship was docked outside of Earth’s atmosphere, he dove downward and steered himself to the direction where Metropolis was located.

A massive vacuum conjured the entire room. The Kryptonian guards stayed in their place. Even in their enhancements, their armor was built to withstand the deadly vacuum and lack of air in space. The Hand of Rao guards scrambled out of the room, followed by Zod, who closed the door, ending the vacuum. Zod growled angrily. “Engage all flight systems!” he shouted. “Track him and find where he's going!”

With the destination of the bridge in mind, he pursed his lips.

If shooting beams of fire out of one's eyes is another effect of a G-type star's radiation, then Kal knows a lot more about his own biology then they did. If Kal was going to go ahead and warn his adoptive planet, then there was even less time to waste. This was nothing he and the Hand of Rao were ever trained for. Using their manufactured firearms seemed like it was no longer an option if the one hostile standing in their way was an empowered Kryptonian with far more years of training and adjusting to his own capabilities. At least Kal didn’t seem to have the complete trust of Earth, even if he is able to get the word out. Either way, now was the time to move.


	11. Chapter 11

Clark increased his speed like never before. In no time flat, he was back in Earth’s bright blue sky. He aimed himself back to the New England states and continued his incredible speed.

He could feel his own heart pounding, even in his heavily secured alien uniform. He breathed heavily while his muscles gave him the strength he needed to hurry back. The meeting with another one of his kind was seeping into his concentration, making him breathe even harder. Coercing and control of a planet that had only now found out that they’re not alone and calling it safety was insane. Earth is in danger, and not from the mysterious invaders Zod was talking about. If that even was true and not some excuse for this misguided dominion.

Clark did have the power to fight off some of them, but one against who knows how many was overwhelming, unless there was one way to even out the odds.

Only one idea Clark had in mind.

It was a longshot, but he couldn’t picture any other alternative. To make matters worse, one reminder crossed his mind. Zod would’ve been right. They would have Clark questioned for days and he would never be able to make a case. He wouldn’t be able to keep in contact with someone high up in the U.S. military. No one would listen to a man who was not from here . . . except for one other person. There was only one person he knew who could get in touch with the right people. He cursed himself under his breath at the remembrance of Lois. Then another troubling epiphany crossed his mind. He remembered mentioning nuclear weapons to Zod. If Zod was willing to attack a massive civilian population, what’s to stop the U.S. Army from unleashing worldending weapons against something they didn’t understand once they found out about Zod’s intentions? Metropolis would turn into a war zone.

Would warning the military be a mistake? Then again, he knew he couldn’t fight them alone . . .

He saw that Metropolis was beginning to start its late afternoon daylight. He found his apartment window, right as he had left it open. He flexed himself inward and landed back inside the more comfortable feeling of his recently new apartment.

Shifting his head all around, he found his phone sitting on the corner of a table. As fast as his excited fingers would allow, Clark redialed the earlier angry call from Lois.

 _Come on, pick up,_ Clark cried under his breath.

“So, what’s your excuse, Smallville?” Lois’ deadpan voice appeared.

“Lois,” Clark said quickly, “listen to me carefully. We don’t have a lot of time.” Clark took a split second and said darkly, “There’s going to be an attack on this planet soon.”

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end, followed by Lois, giving a flat, “what?”

“Your father,” Clark persisted, “he’s the General of the United States Army. You told me that. Am I right?”

“Er—yeah?” Lois could sense the urgency in his voice as if wondering what he was getting at.

“Call him. Tell him there’s going to be an attack on Earth, and they need to act now. Tell him that this has to do with the alien ship.”

“I’m not doing a damn thing until you tell me what this is about, Smallville,” Lois said sternly. “You’ve been acting very strange since that thing appeared.”

Clark huffed and shook his head in frustration. If she wasn’t willing to budge, and there was no other way, then he had to say something. Making himself an image without anyone knowing his identity while saving a plane was one thing. God knows how much longer that could last. He felt that giving up his identity could just make things worse. He only met this no-nonsense woman today. Sure, she was level-headed, but would she report him to the authorities right on the dot? There wouldn’t be much time to explain. Zod was no doubt preparing the attack, which could be any minute now.

Swallowing the risks of this quick plan, Clark took a deep breath and said, “because the ‘flying man' told me to.”

“Wait—what?” Lois’ voice reluctantly said.

 _Oh, great_ , Clark thought to himself. _I really need to work on lying._ “You're not gonna believe this, but the flying man who is called ‘Kal-El' just landed near where I was. I-I never got a chance to interview him, but he told me to warn you that there's going to be an attack. And I believe him.”

An irritated scoff was heard. “You expect me to believe that?”

Clark decided it was time to go on the offensive. “We didn’t want to believe that a man could fly, and we didn’t want to believe we were not alone,” Clark countered. So far, he was doing well and not stuttering. _That’s_ progress. “He already saved hundreds of people today, Lois. I don’t think he would have a reason to lie.”

“Clark, what is going on?” Lois said, sounding a little worried. “You’re bailing out on me and now, you’re telling me that you found an alien and he's _talking to you?_ ”

“Yeah,” Clark said casually, enduring how stupid that really does sound. “In fact, ah. . . he's right here,” he said without thinking.

“He's _what?_ ” Another flat response.

Clark could tell that she was losing interest really hard. Something had to be done otherwise there would be no chance of anything.

“He said that he’s agreeing to meet with you,” Clark said.

Lois rolled her eyes. “Right, and I’m Amy Adams. Now, he wants to talk to _me?”_

“Lois.” Clark’s worry was beginning to plague his tone now. “I know this sounds crazy, and I know _I’m_ sounding crazy, but if there was ever a time I needed you to trust me now more than ever, it’s now. Lois . . . I can’t help but feel like this is as real as it gets.”

There was a moment of silence. He really meant that statement too.

“Alright, Clark,” Lois sighed frustratingly. “I’ll do it. But this better not be a waste of time.”

“He told me the rooftop of the Daily Planet in about ten minutes,” Clark said.

An impatient sigh was heard. “Alright,” she said as if faking that everything’s fine. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Alright,” Clark responded trying in vain to be enlightened.

The sound of an ending phone call chimed through his ear. Clark let out a sharp exhale, spilling out the held tension. Feeling sweat seeping out from his hairline, he buried his face with his hands.

 _Real slick,_ he thought to himself. _You’re a grown man with all these powers, and you do the stupidest things._

* * *

Lois was anything but patient. She let out an uncomfortable sigh as her eyes darted around her surroundings on the rooftop of the Daily Planet. The shade beneath the large structure of the golden “Daily Planet” statue only added more chill from the already cold towering air above. The three o’clock’s afternoon warmth only gave a barely noticeable comfort. Things were stressful and puzzling enough. She was also worried about Clark. She had already made a BS cover story about why he’s not on the Daily Planet floor right now, trying to cover anything they can get on this alien ship. Now, a phone call saying that he ­ _talked_ to this alien, who was saying that there was an alien attack coming.

The whole thing was absurd. Clark knew about the flying man _somehow._ From what she could tell, Clark was the type of guy who was honest and had too much of a soft heart to BS something like this. What tugged at her mind the most was that if this did turn out to be real, then what was the attack that Clark was talking about? If that alien craft had to do with it, then something would have to be done about it.

Before more panicked questions could swamp her thoughts, she heard a low whoosh that boomed like a jet. Feeling her hair moving across her face, Lois brushed it aside as her mouth dropped open.

Clark flew in fast and spotted the rooftop, holding the giant golden metal sculpture that towered over the Daily Planet building. Beneath golden sculpture that resembled a planet with the words “Daily Planet” mounted on it was Lois, who was blocking the sun’s glare in her eyesight to get a better view. Shifting his path, Clark turned and headed straight to where Lois was. From what he noticed, Lois was stunned at the sight of him and began to take a few nervous steps backward. He eased his speed and decided to stop himself in midair just a meter or two from the ledge where Lois was standing.

“Ms. Lane?” Clark asked.

Lois’ wide-eyed stare was her only response before she spoke, her face unchanging, “oh, my God. An alien just spoke to me.”

“Ms. Lane,” Clark repeated to bring her to her senses. Thankfully, she hadn’t recognized him. He could never be more thankful that he wasn’t wearing his glasses and his hair had been altered from recent events, unlike this morning where it was nicely washed and slicked to one side.

“Erm—yes,” she stuttered. “Uh . . . you, uh . . . don’t look anything like the, uh . . . photos.” _Wow. For an alien, he's kinda hot._ “You’re, uh, wearing a-a cape. A cape. Yes . . . uh, we didn’t see that before.”

Clark was somewhat amused by her nervy analysis. “Yes,” he said confidently before hesitating his next statement, “I, erm—forgot it back with the plane. There was no time.”

“Right,” Lois said before drawing breath still astonished by what she was seeing. “So, you’re an . . . an alien.”

“Yeah,” Clark smiled awkwardly. While he didn’t drop his poised demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel the same level of embarrassment she was sharing.

Lois glanced at his groundless feet. “How . . . how are you doing that? The flying thing?”

“I was born this way,” Clark simply answered.

Lois could only stare in awe as her eyes scanned him. Her eyes mostly focused on the rest of his body, unlike his face. While it took her a long time to stop herself from staring at his bulky muscles through the foreign fabric, she admired the dominant deep blue shade against the secondary contrasting red on the boots and cape.

“So, uh,” Lois forcibly broke the tension. “You’re the alien. . . What’d they call you—Call El? Cowbell?”

“Kal-El,” Clark corrected smirking from that mistake.

Clark didn’t feel frightened by the questions he had long expected and feared. It was rather amusing. He could tell that Lois was afraid. As she said out loud, she was talking to an alien. But she wasn’t cowering or asking what he wanted from her. He remembered her saying to be in the moment, and not let anything hold him back. _She’s a lot braver than I am,_ he thought. As he realized this, he also felt a little more relaxed than what he had in mind. She was talking to an alien and he was talking to a human.

“I’m from a faraway world. But I’m here to warn you that the ship you saw from earlier is going to force his authority here. If you warn your father now, we can stop it from happening.”

“Okay,” Lois stuttered. “Wait, where’s Clark?”

“He’s safe,” Clark assured. “I told him to clear and he would call you when he could.”

“Alright,” Lois said as she reached into her pocket before sheathing her smartphone. Several seconds passed, and General Lane did answer, much to Lois' surprise.

“What is it?” Sam said impatiently.

“Okay, Dad,” Lois said, not quite recovered her composure. “You’re not gonna believe this—not that you often do, but I think there's gonna be an attack.”

Sam's tone shifted from nonchalant to curious. “Attack? What do you mean? Where?”

“I don't know,” Lois stammered, “but I think we need to be ready.”

“How good is this intel?” Sam asked skeptically.

Lois hesitated and glanced at Clark. He had his hand outstretched as if wanting to reach for her phone. She gestured incredulously at her phone. Clark nodded urgently.

Holding the microphone to her phone, she whispered loudly, “I can’t just let you talk to him! He’s the frickin’ General!”

Clark beckoned his fingers frantically for the phone once more. Cursing under her breath, Lois let out a soft groan before handing over the phone. _This guy better knows what he's doing,_ she thought to herself.

Clark took a short trice for strong consideration, looking back and wondering how it all came to this. Now, he’s calling the general of the United States Army—a government official. All in a day of revealing himself to know what kind of people his kind were. This has been an odd and frightening day.

Disregarding the second thought, Clark held the phone to his ear. “Mr. Lane.”

“ _General_ Lane,” Sam corrected.

Clark rolled his eyes. _What is it with titles today?_

“And who the hell is this? Where's my daughter?”

“My name is Kal-El,” Clark answered calmly. “I am the one that ship was looking for.”

There was a moment of hesitation that gave Clark an awkward chill. “What did you just say?” Sam’s voice sounded.

“General, we don't have time, so I’ll have to be blunt and cut to the chase. This planet is being targeted by that ship. I don't have a time window, but I know that the one behind all this won't hesitate to make a move. If you don’t prepare yourself, then it might be too late.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Sam spoke again in a highly disbelieving voice, “And you expect me to believe you just like that? How do you know all this?”

It was Clark’s turn to hesitate before returning to his calm mood. “He told me directly.”

“He told you directly,” Sam repeated with doubt. “Listen, son. I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing, but we have an international situation on our hands. An alien ship just passed through our atmosphere and we’re trying to find out where the damn thing went.”

Clark wore a frustrated face. Why won’t anyone listen to him? He then glanced at Lois, who looked as if she read through him. She anxiously held out her arm and mouthed for her phone back. Noticing her desperation, Clark obeyed. He hoped that despite years of their silence towards each other, she could convince him.

“Dad,” Lois spoke.

“Lois,” Sam sighed, “This is the last time I’ll say this: I don’t have time for this.”

“Then answer me this,” Lois said decisively. “Have I ever lied to you?” She took a breath and then said, “Look, I know I’ve written a lot of articles that you hated, and how you think I’m such a bleeding heart liberal, and how much we suck at Take Your Daughter to Work Days a lot, but right now, Dad, I need you to trust me now more than you ever did in your life. I swear to you and _Mom_ that he’s real. He is literally standing right in front of me. He’s real. And if he’s right, then something’s coming.”

“Even if I were to agree to this,” Sam countered, sounding if he was close to defeat, “there’ll have to be things I’ll have to clarify with my superiors.”

Clark highly anticipated an answer on the other end after a statement like that. More silence followed. Clark drew in more breath as anticipation rose in him. Lois remained in her position, alternating from staring at him and awaiting an answer.

“This better not be a waste of time, Lois,” Sam's voice said.

Reading that as a ‘yes’, Clark drew in a soft breath

“Get him back on the phone,” Sam said.

Lois gestured towards Clark. “He wants to talk to you.”

“I know. I can hear him.” Clark took the phone. “General?”

Lois stared at this alien in amazement while he talked. How can he hear that? _Did I have the call-volume on too loud?_

“So, you know him,” Sam deduced.

“Yes,” Clark answered humbly. He took a second to prepare himself before uttering, “he’s like me.”

There was silence on the other end. Clark could feel himself almost shuddering on the inside from the reveal. While the plane was a necessary time to reveal himself, he didn’t imagine it would’ve been less than a day that he would be discovered publicly. He kept telling himself that this was all for the best as he had the power to save lives.

Sam’s voice spoke in a cautious manner. “I saw the footage and air traffic transcripts. You can fly faster than a bullet. You can lift an airplane with your bare hands. What assurances do I have that you won’t turn on us?”

Clark drew in a breath before speaking modestly. “General, I can promise you one thing: While I am one of them, I’m not like them. I already saved lives today, General. That’s why I’m warning you now to save more. I’m speaking to you as someone from another world to another. The attacker, Dru-Zod, is coming. I may not have all the strength to stop him, but maybe if we cooperate, we can have a chance of stopping them.”

“Wait a minute— _we_ cooperate with _you_?” Sam said in disbelief.

“That is correct,” Clark said without changing tone.

“I don’t have the authority to just simply comply with your suggestions and move our military personnel,” Sam insisted. “I have to clarify with the White House.”

“Whatever you have to do,” Clark said. “You have to do it fast, and the longer we wait, the more likely he’ll make his first move.”

A huff was heard on the other end followed by nothing else. As a bead of sweat leaked in his hairline, Clark could sense that the hesitation indicated skepticism but also stress. It also occurred to Clark that it would prove ludicrous to make a move simply based on conjecture, especially from someone who’s not from here.

“You said an attack, right?” Sam’s voice suddenly came back on.

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered with relief while trying to be more respectful.

“Was it the man who made that worldwide announcement, Zod?”

“That is correct,” Clark said again, this time with a sense of in a hurry. “He’s going to try and intimidate world leaders into suppressing into his authority for a totalitarian regime.”

A moment of pause. “Why?”

“He wants the planet to be a weapon for war. His pl—our planet was destroyed long ago by an unknown enemy. He wants to bring his military tactic into your world by any means that only he deems necessary. Even if that means by force.”

“General,” a nearly faint voice was heard on Sam’s side. From what Clark deduced, it was the voice of a colleague. “Sir, that craft that appeared a while ago is back. It’s now hovering over New Troy in Metropolis.”

The mention of Metropolis shot an icy adrenaline through Clark. The rest of the conversation between Sam and his associate was drowned out by Clark’s panic. He snapped his head above him and began to shift his eyes around blindly. His peripheral vision then picked up a small black speck many miles away. Narrowing his eyesight, the faraway speck heavily resembled the distinctive features of Zod’s ship. It was, indeed, suspended miles above staying still in the sky, making no further movement.

Clark returned the phone to his face. “General, are you seeing it?”

Sam’s voice turned to darkly serious with fear hidden in his tone. “Yes. I see it.”

“We don’t have time,” Clark reiterated. “If you have the authority to do anything, now’s the time.”

“Put my daughter back on the phone,” Sam said sternly.

Clark obeyed and handed it back to Lois.

“Lois, get out of the city now,” Sam said directly.

“What about you?” Lois said. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just get yourself out of Metropolis as soon as you can.”

“Dad—”

“Go! Go now!”

The call ended. Lois huffed and looked back at Clark with a look of dread. “What about you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Clark asked.

“You know these guys, right? Can’t you stop them?”

“I’ve already tried talking to them,” Clark said. “They didn’t listen. Now, they’re taking matters into their own hands.”

“But aren’t you going to stop them?” Lois demanded a straight answer.

Clark knew that she was right, and he agreed with her as strongly as himself back onboard Zod’s ship. But at that moment, he realized that he was Kryptonian—a refugee from another world, concerned and frightened for other civilizations that have no idea what else is out there.

“I’ll do what I can,” Clark answered humbly. “In the meantime, Ms. Lane, I suggest you listen to your father and get as far away from the city as much as possible.”

Before Lois could respond, Clark crouched and launched himself in the air and headed in the direction where Zod’s ship was suspended.

After feeling the blast of air from his ascent, Lois continued watching in awe as she marveled at the alien’s speed. She got a firsthand warning from the actual alien! And now, there’s going to be an interaction between the U.S. Army, the alien ship and the renegade alien himself? There was no way in hell she was going to miss all this. Excitement and fear carried her back to the door that led away from the _Daily Planet_ office building rooftop.


	12. Chapter 12

Zod approached at the railing of the ledge that overlooked the control room. All of the ship’s monitoring instruments were blinking and flashing rapidly while observing the below planet. While that happened, he had nothing but to wait for any positive results. He had expected resistance, but he couldn’t help but sense that it was very resembling of the day when Krytpon was destroyed. Being brought back to that dreadful event and in this position nearly made him shutter. But the pride of the House of Zod was to never back down and never let emotion overpower you. He had kept that promise for such a long time since his training at Fort Rozz. Emotion was a liability. This isn’t right, nor is it wrong; it’s the only thing that must be done.

The far side of the room opposite of him displayed an image of the planet Earth and monitoring any kind of activity that was occurring near its surface. Several Kryptonians were at consoles that exhibited multiple interfaces, which focused on a different point of view of Earth along with several Kryptonian symbols, giving detailed information about the planet’s geographies and landscapes.

 _Those people are naïve_ , Zod thought to himself. So many he had known were unwilling to act. He did know that it would be uncomfortable for everyone, but there was no other choice. Whether they liked it or not, they need an enhanced force. If xenophobia would cripple Kal’s vain efforts of communication or diplomacy, then force is the only way. Either way, he was confident that he was already ahead of him.

“How soon can we make our announcement?” Zod asked his science officer, Jax-Ur, who sat at a monitor.

“We will be able to broadcast in several minutes, General.” A notification popped up on Jax’s screen. “Sir, their satellites. They’re beginning to rally.”

“So, they’re moving for defensive strategies,” Zod calculated. “Then we’ll just have to make our movement before they do.” He turned and faced Ursa and another male Hand of Rao renegade, Nam-Ek.

“Head down there and find whoever leads this settlement,” Zod said. They will heed to us, or they will suffer the consequences.”

The two nodded. “We will not fail you, General,” Nam-Ek said moderately.

Ursa and Nam then left the room as Zod remained in his position, monitoring the entire area that was known as Metropolis by its inhabitants. In a short time, the large monitor showed that two objects that indicated Ursa and Nam were dispelling from their current location and headed back towards Earth.

“General!” one Kryptonian shouted in a tone of surprise and horror. “One projectile heading our way!”

Zod was curious and only a little frightened. “They’ve begun attacking back?”

“No, sir. No readings from their crafts.”

Zod hardened his stare at the large monitor and did see that an object was making its way fast towards where they were. Zod then displayed a knowing look. He already knew the kind of planet Earth was. It was a primitive world, as well as its history of weaponry and technology. Despite the There was no way they could have a kind of weapon. He was beyond sure that this was Kal and nothing else.

* * *

Clark held his palms outward to make them meet with the massive black metal exterior of Zod’s ship. He figured that the type of metal would be a lot stronger and more advanced than the surface of the plane he held earlier. He was correct as he clenched his fingers on the black metal exterior and found that he had to apply more pressure to rip it open.

Once he made it inside, an alarm echoed throughout the ship. The sound didn’t startle him in the least. He had no expectation for a sneak attack, considering how Zod was able to hack into Earth’s every form of communication.

“Kal-El,” Zod’s voice called.

Clark turned and saw Zod walking towards him, slowly emerging from the darkness and into the light. Clark expected him to be running towards him with the intent of attacking but saw instead that Zod was walking casually with no sense of urgency.

“You don’t disappoint your timing,” Zod said. “Though, you do disappoint _me._ ”

“I can’t let you do this,” Clark glared. “There’s no need to control them.”

“By the time I’m done, there won’t be anything left to be afraid of, and those invaders will pay for their devastation.”

“I’ve already told the entire world what you’re about to do. You’re not getting anything by force.”

Zod flexed a brow. “Oh, do they? Then tell me, Kal—do they still fear you?”

“They agreed,” Clark countered. “I’ve already warned them and they’re already getting ready for you. There’s no need for a war.”

Zod didn’t falter his amused visage. “Sounds to me like they were quite hesitant to believe you, Kal.”

Clark remained silent.

“Face it, son of Jor-El. You’ve been raised here, they’ve taught you compassion, but your blood runs thicker than your mind.”

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Clark warned. “Stop this. _Now.”_

Zod smiled. “Why don’t you inform that to the two Kryptonians who have taken a liking to your homestead?”

“What are you talking about?” Clark demanded.

“As we speak, this settlement called ‘Metropolis’ is being sieged.” Zod’s mouth stretched into a light grin. “My best soldiers have been sent. I wouldn’t waste any time while your city is under attack, Kal.”

Tightening his leer, Clark said, “You’re lying.”

“Am I? See for yourself, young one.”

Clark released an anxious breath and glanced back at the hole that he created. He could make out two black specs that were soaring back to the downtown area. He cursed to himself under his breath as he thought more to himself that knowing that Zod is a high-ranked officer should have given him a hint that he would be clever enough to have already launched some sort of attack.

In a swift motion, Clark surged himself back out of Zod’s ship and followed to where he spotted the two Kryptonians.

The attack had begun. The first priority would be to get them as far away from the city as possible.

As he picked up speed, he witnessed their paths alternating and he saw they were heading for the Daily Planet. Clark fastened himself and aimed at his two foes. One, however, turned. Despite the distance, Clark felt a chill of familiarity as one of the Kryptonians revealed. It was Ursa.

Through the wind rumbling past his ears, Clark could hear her say, “take care of him. I'll proceed.”

The other nodded.

Clark was hoping he would reach the two in time before they had time to separate and resume with their plan. Ursa was already making her way near the entire upper portion of the Daily Planet's golden-plated tower. Releasing a breath of agitation, Clark didn’t hesitate to follow her, but the other Kryptonian had heeded her previous instruction.

The other Kryptonian let out a loud growl and aimed a ready fist at Clark, who was already speeding like mad. Clark caught this and was able to make a sharp upward turn to narrowly miss the roaring punch.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Clark taunted. This wasn't too hard after all.

“You find sport in this, son of Jor-El?” the Kryptonian said angrily. “I am General Zod's proudest soldier. The House of Ek has a long history of servitude for the Kryptonian army.”

Clark readied himself in a stance. “Think it's time for your retirement.”

Nam-Ek yelled and charged into Clark’s chest.

Air vanished from his lungs as Clark was propelled back and found himself doing many backward somersaults in mid-air.

This guy wasn’t kidding around. He had a lot of strength. As Clark regained himself, he found that Nam was speeding towards him again for another hit.

* * *

Clark tightened himself and soared away from Nam’s assault.

Rapidly searching for a counter measure, Clark just looked ahead instead of the tall buildings that almost reached up to him. Beneath him, his hearing could pick up the sounds of crowds either screaming in panic or exclaiming in fascination that there was now more than one flying man.

He knew it wouldn’t be a fair fight between one now enchanted alien with hand-to-hand combat experience and one who’s only been practicing his powers since childhood. There was no other choice but to fight back. Even if it meant brute strength without a known fighting technique to stop those fanatics.

“Come back here, Kal!” Nam growled with his fists ready to pummel themselves into his target.

 _He's certainly the angry type,_ Clark thought. All Nam cared about was just getting Clark and nothing else mattered to him. With such an impulse, he could easily miss something obscure that Clark could improvise. The question was how vigilant Nam was is over an opponent other than just chasing in rage. It was now or never; the city was under attack.

Clark slowed himself and turned around to face the charging enemy. At a quick motion, he could see that Nam was savoring this upcoming attack. Nam had an open fist and let out a roar to compensate for his assail. Clark shot himself a whole five yards sideways to dodge Nam’s punch. Right when Nam passed by, Clark reached back with a readied fist and lunged forward as fast as he could before landing a blow at Nam’s back. The impact sent Nam ahead about a couple of meters while he let out a surprised and pained groan.

Clark slightly chuckled and smirked at his opponent, believing that this would be easier than he thought. He _did_ find sport in this. All those years of practicing his powers were a lot more than only a short time of sunlight exposure. That was the advantage he needed to be more than ready to fight them off. Question was how he was going to stop them without any further damage. Years of practice was one thing, but the amount of time it would take to defeat them was everything.

Nam quickly turned around with pure hate shimmering in his eyes and his face reddened with stress and fury. His glare nearly sent chills in Clark, who was already ready for another attack from him.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Kal?” Nam roared. “And you think you’re so funny!”

Clark retained his self-assured expression. “First time being in the sunlight?”

After a brief moment of tension, Nam took a deep breath and his expression lightened into a calmer façade. Clark’s smirk slightly faded as he saw that Nam was no longer angry and looked more calculating. He was still breathing heavily, however. His mouth morphed from open bared teeth to a slightly parted mouth with one corner stretched upward into a smirk while still breathing heavily.

“So, you’re a lot more clever than I thought,” he said. “Got some strategy in you.”

Clark wasn’t buying this unexpected change of attitude, prompting him to maintain his preparedness. He calculated that this was some sort of tactic to stall him so that other Kryptonian would have time to do something far worse. He dreaded that Nam was wrong; that clever hit was only by luck, and he did feel inexperienced compared to the other Kryptonians. One of them had already knocked him out cold in one swift sneak attack.

“Impressed?” Clark asked.

“I will admit I am, Kal,” he smirked, looking humbly. He opened his eyelids, revealing wide and daring eyes. “But you’re still nothing compared to _me!_ ”

As the words left him, Nam darted forward at Clark. Clark could see the false sense of security coming, but the ferocity from Nam’s full body coming was not something he was primed for.

Instinctively, Clark pressed his hands against Nam’s tackling thrust and found himself forced backward. Thankfully, he was ready for this attack; it wasn’t nearly as brutal as the last one.

Straining against the unstoppable force, Clark immediately returned the favor with another punch at the ready.

Nam then stopped his charge abruptly.

The surprising halt threw Clark off his guard, and Nam landed a firm-knuckled fist at Clark’s cheek, pushing him away several yards.

Clark winced as he could feel his cheek swell while he was propelled back. Then, he heard Nam coming again with another attack. Clark was ready this time. He readied a fist as Nam approached expediently.

Nam immediately stopped in front of him and answered with an arm blocking Clark’s attack.

With his other hand, Nam lifted an under armed uppercut at Clark’s chin, launching him upward. A white-hot sting rang through Clark’s jaw, and he climbed altitude rapidly with great force.

Fighting the bewilderment from the impact, he caught a glimpse of Nam, closing in on him fast.

Clark rubbed his facial injuries. _Okay, so this guy’s not as dumb as he looks,_ he thought frantically. Fighting him with bare hands would be out of the question.

Luckily, Nam’s angry roar gave away his location and how far away he was. Thinking fast, Clark drove himself away from Nam’s path. For now, flying away was the best option rather than facing him.

Clark glanced back and it seemed that Nam wasn’t keeping his eye off his target. He then returned his eyesight in front of him, sensing his pompous opponent hot on his tail.

“You can’t run from me, you coward,” Nam growled after him grinning wildly.

There was only one strategy that occurred to Clark. Only one way to find out if it works.

“Who said I was running?” he called back.

Clark braked himself to a complete halt.

Nam was still charging nonstop.

Clark waited until Nam was right at where he was, then tightened his legs. Bending over, Clark thrust his legs backward, his boots smacking into Nam’s face. He was thrown backward while he held his face with his hands, growling in anger and pain.

Relief gripped Clark. He couldn’t believe that actually worked.

Not hesitating, he spun around and charged. Nam might have been trained to fight honorably, but maybe fighting dirty would’ve been Clark’s only chance of outlasting him.

Taking the opportunity while Nam was stunned in pain, he threw a mighty fist straight into Nam’s stomach. Nam let go of his face, revealing an expression of wide eyes and open mouth as air was drained from his lungs.

Nam drew himself backward as hard as his body would allow and his face returned to his reddened furious expression. Clark recognized that whatever strategy Nam had in mind was now out the window. He was going for the kill. No plan or stealth. Despite a lack of scheming, there was nothing more dangerous than an unstable overpowered person with the intent to kill.

Soaring away, Clark followed the other Kryptonian that was heading straight for the Daily Planet. The fear of Lois being in that building gave more speed to his flight and fastened his arms, giving him more rapidity.

“Stop this!” Clark shouted while fleeing.

“Not until you’re dead!” Nam responded keeping his concentration as hard as he could on him.

Clark then heard Nam say, “Ursa, he’s heading toward you!”

Clark’s face whitened at the mention of her.

He narrowed his eyes and found that Ursa slowed down. She then barrel-rolled until her back faced the ground, allowing herself to lift her head up until she saw him. Her gaze almost gave Clark the need to slow down, but he knew too much about the dangers she possessed to give in to fear.

Ursa lunged forward from her position. She opened up an arm, readying a fist and soaring fast towards him. Clark let out a gasp and pulled himself out of the way just in time for Ursa to miss him entirely, but she wasn’t finished with her assault. She threw another fist, which Clark narrowly dodged. He was impressed and frightened by her agility with how well she was able to maintain a fighting style while in midair. He was able to keep up with her pace

She lifted a leg and spun around, landing a hard kick across Clark’s face.

Groaning through his teeth, Clark saw the whole world spinning as he somersaulted in midair. His arms were then locked behind him by some unseen force. He didn’t know what it was at first until he heard a raspy snicker right next to his ear along with warm breath.

“You’re not going anywhere, Kal,” Nam-Ek sneered coldly.

Aggravated, Clark struggled and thrashed around, desperately hoping that it would loosen Nam’s grip, but he was too tightly locked by someone even more powerful and experienced than he was. He found that Ursa was approaching him fast, ready to finish him off while Nam held him, rendering him defenseless. Ursa scowled at her prey concocting the absolution of her strength as she reached one arm far back with a firm closed fist. Clark’s pulse skyrocketed. He could sense the amount of energy behind that incoming attack.

“If you present a problem for General Zod, then your life has no further meaning,” she growled.

Clark thrashed around harder, but Nam’s grip wouldn’t budge. He then thought of another way. It sounded silly in his head, but it seemed like the only possible way out of this. He watched Ursa carefully as she was ready to throw her fist right into his face. As she thrust her strength forward, Clark tightened his body as hard as he could, giving him the ability for flight. With this strength, he lunged forward, fighting against Nam’s arms who still held him. The two were then leaning over until Nam’s face was now in the way of Ursa’s punch.

A loud bang sounded, and Clark no longer felt Nam’s grip, followed by the sound of Nam letting out a yelp. Ursa’s face was riddled with a dreaded shock. Taking this moment, Clark, now under Ursa darted upward and let out an undercut in the same manner as Nam’s and landed a rocketing fist at her chin, sending her upward. Ursa skyrocketed further in the sky. Clark quickly spun around to find Nam holding his face with both hands, cursing angrily. Clark charged forward and tackled Nam and drove him away.

Clark held Nam with both hands while flying as fast as he could, hoping to send him as far away from the city as possible.

Ursa would recover soon and resume her mission of breaking into the Daily Planet; he had to make this fast.

By the time they reached the coastline, Clark took the still pained Nam by his midsection and lifted him high above him. Even with his Kryptonian strength, he found Nam to be quite heavy. Clark thrust his arms downward and tossed Nam as hard as he could, plummeting him into the ocean. Nam plunged towards the ocean and crashed through the surface, creating an exploding splash.

Clark eased himself while letting out steady tired breaths. As long as he could take advantage of his powers to last himself long enough to stop this conflict, he’d be okay. Being tossed down into the ocean wouldn’t stop Nam, but there had to be another way to beat them indefinitely. These were only two Kryptonians. It was only a matter of time before Zod would inevitably send in more of his Hand of Rao cronies and Clark would certainly not last out there. Whatever General Lane had in mind for preparing for an invasion better take action soon.

Clark’s ears picked up something rumbling. It was very soft and faint, but loud enough to be heard. As he listened harder, it became more obvious that the sound was resembling the reverberation of a fast disjointed rhythmic beat.

A helicopter.

Thinking quick, he swiveled himself to analyze his environment to find the source of the sound of helicopter blades. There was no sight of any such thing; wherever it was coming from was already too far away, and it would be too late for it to arrive.

Clark’s peripheral vision picked up back to where Ursa was last seen. His eyes widened as he saw her making her way fast towards him with another fist at the ready for another devastating attack. Her eyes narrowed into aggressive slits that belonged on an angry warrior with the intent to annihilate. Clark got himself in a defensive stance to either dodge or try and counter, which would be most certainly in vain.

It then occurred to Clark: she hadn’t taken notice to the helicopter blades. _They’re still not used to their powers,_ Clark thought. All they knew was how to fight and kill. Fighting them head-on would be suicide, but so would be fleeing.

The two then came into view as Ursa was maintaining her rampage towards him. Ursa skimmed behind her as the noises of helicopter blades chopping through the thin air grew loud enough to reach her ears. Her narrow brows eased themselves and her expression developed from rage to curiosity. To her, they were strange looking kinds of combat vehicles. They were primitive compared to what she had experience with back at Fort Rozz, but it still looked heavily armed.

 _Yes, yes,_ Clark thought. _Keep coming over. Away from the city._

* * *

“This is Alpha 1,” Sam spoke into his radio, as he carefully studied the monitor that supervised an aerial view of Metropolis. “Switch to your scope view.”

“Confirmed, Alpha 1,” came in the voice. “Visual contact established.”

Soon enough, a secondary screen popped up on the lower corner of the large interface which was reading that the hostiles barely zoomed past the _Daily Planet._ Guardian’s scope view was reading that the pilot was looking at the aliens which were also having a look of curiosity and fascination at them. Almost as if she was studying them.

“They’ve spotted us,” Guardian said with deadly caution.

“Wait until they’re over the coastline. We can’t risk any collateral damage. Do you read me? Acknowledge.”

“Copy that, Alpha 1.”

Sam listened intently as he shifted his focus towards Guardian’s scope view and then back to the aerial view of the city. The markers that indicated the aliens were acting differently from one another. One was heading fast towards the other while the other marker, which Guardian’s HMD view depicted was standing perfectly still. Her attire gave Sam an uneasy feeling in his gut. He was fighting off an enemy that he didn’t fully understand. This was getting real. This was as real as Lois claimed.

“Talk to me,” Sam said on the radio impatiently.

“Targets acquired, Alpha 1.”

Letting out a huff, Sam continued. “Do not fire yet. I repeat, do not fire.”

“Copy, Alpha 1. Standing by.”

Sam never took his eyes off the hostile markers. Both were moving at incredibly fast speeds. Now, they were standing still. Sam felt an apprehensive sensation.

* * *

Ursa turned herself around until she completely faced the helicopter.

Inside the chopper, Sam’s voice sounded over the radio. “Guardian, zoom in and enhance the enemy.”

The pilot tampered with his scope that covered his right eye. He squinted his left eye, to focus on the image. A couple seconds followed, and the image cleared itself, giving away the alien’s features.

The pilot was taken by surprise. They were perceived as aliens, but they looked more human than anything that could’ve existed outside the world.

“I-I think it’s a woman, Alpha 1,” the pilot confirmed unsurely.

Sam studied Guardian’s interface carefully. This “alien” looked like a woman, indeed.

“We see that,” Sam verified.

* * *

Ursa lunged and threw her arms out.

Clark gasped and threw himself at her with the same pose as her. He was just about to reach her, but he had been careless.

A lightning bolt of pain shot him in the back between his shoulders. The sound that followed from what Clark’s ears could make out was Nam’s growl followed by a sneering chuckle.

Clark depressed fast with arms sprawled outward while he was heading towards ground. The impact created a small shock wave and a cloud dispersed around him on the asphalt.

Damn. That actually hurt. He hadn’t felt physical pain for the longest time, and to feel it again was more than he braced himself for.

Screams of shock and surprise ring through his ears. Several bystanders, who were already running from the occurrence above exclaimed several cries in panic.

The blow on the hard road gave Clark a dazed episode. He knew that he would be fine and unharmed, but he didn’t count on how hard their punches and strength would be. There had to be another way to fight them without necessarily getting in a fist fight.

Above, Ursa finished her charge at the chopper, who had begun firing its gunnery rapidly into the chest plate of her Kryptonian armor. The bullets glittered with sparks as none were able to penetrate her superior defense. With a growl, she hurled a fist into the chopper’s tail boom.

A metallic crunch reverberated, and the pilots jolted from their assail.

Ursa she watched her inferior opponent plummet with a smirk. It was so easy that she didn’t consider it a challenge for herself. She had taken on much fiercer.

“Mayday, mayday!” the pilot exclaimed while hanging onto anything he could grab. “We’ve been hit! Thunder-12, take the shot! We’re going down deadstick! Brace for impact!”

The sound of metal shattering was enough to catch Clark’s attention. He snapped his head upward to see the chopper missing an entire back section with shrapnel raining.

Clark charged skyward and held out his arms aiming for the falling chopper. As the chopper made contact with his bare hands, he lightly clenched his fingers to secure the vessel but carefully enough to not damage it further.

As fast as he could allow himself without jiggling the chopper around too much, Clark descended with the chopper above him and touched the ground. More people panicked. At the same time, they stared in awe as they saw the impossible of a man lifting something so heavy as a helicopter while flying.

Crouching, he lowered the chopper and let it go on the pavement, making several small scraping noises.

Another painful smack.

This one sent Clark flying horizontally and made him scrape alongside the asphalt, cutting through the street. His head was shoved alongside a massive van’s wheel that popped upon the spontaneous jab. Shrieks erupted from nearby people. His dent was only several paces away from the nearest vehicle.

People scrambled out of the car near him and started bolting away. Through the daze, Clark heard exclamations ringing. He blinked rapidly and did catch a glimpse of Nam making a messy landing nearby him.

Nam looked to his side and saw a Taxi that contained one frightened driver. He gave the driver a look, and the driver hurriedly abandoned his vehicle whimpering. Now an empty vessel at his disposal, Nam lifted the car above him. He wore a look that took pride in his strength. “This G-type star is a gift, Kal!” she hollered. “Just like your ancestors, you waste it on nothing else but humility—the same practice of weakness.”

Ursa thrust her arms downwards and the van fell fast right where Clark was lying.

Adrenaline helped Clark stand up quickly. Before there was time to consider anything, Clark hurled a tightly closed fist in the air. The entire container then cracked open into two uneven halves, scattering scrap metal and a tire in different directions. The remains of the vehicle scraped on the road and some of the halves stopped on sidewalks, making several runaway bystanders stop in their tracks. The van’s impact was painless, but he could definitely feel the inertia from Ursa's toss that nearly made him sway backward.

He had time to look and watch Ursa reach for another vehicle. This wasn’t as big as the earlier heavier van. It was an SUV, but it was at least empty to herald no guaranteed civilian danger.

In a haste motion, Clark grabbed the pieces of the van with both hands. Perhaps this would be a more helpful alternative than personal combat. He gathered himself in a defensive position with both fragments gripped as if they were boxing gloves.

Ursa didn’t waste any more seconds as she threw the SUV with gritted teeth.

Clark was ready. He fastened a fist and obliterated the vehicle that split in two roughly ripped pieces of scrap metal that scattered.

Ursa reached for another nearby car. This one was just an SUV, significantly smaller this time, at least.

But this one wasn’t empty.

Clark froze and his eyes broadened in fear. A family of four was inside. At the wheel, the father looked back at his two daughters in the back. The wife was reaching back for her daughters as if trying to hold their hands. Both sisters let out screams at the car’s motion of being lifted.

“Don’t!” Clark shouted angrily. “Put it down!”

“Then stand down!” Ursa responded. “What happens to them is on you, Kal.”

“I said put it down now!” he shouted as if he didn’t hear a word she said. “They have _nothing_ to do with anything! Those are innocent people for God’s sake!”

“Every war has casualties, Kal,” Ursa reasserted. “Our oppressors have learned that in death!”

She hurled the car.

Clark clenched his fists on the front of the car as hard as he could. The screams echoed from within the vehicle, just like he heard from the plane earlier today. Twice in one day. That damned Ursa was right—their lives were in his hands.

Ursa didn’t hesitate. She hoisted another car. Clark looked and saw that it was abandoned at least. But she was ready to make another toss, this time without forbearance or words.

Panic gripped Clark’s chest and felt no breath.

He lifted himself in the air while holding the family car and saw Ursa’s tossed car miss him and crash into a nearby building below.

He winced at the collision. The sounds of metal crunching, concrete cracking and—ultimately—screams stiffened the hairs on the back of his neck. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t do anything about that. The family car above him was the only thing that mattered now, and he had to find a way to get them to safety and quick, otherwise they’d end up like whoever was down below.

Carefully balancing the car above him so the passengers wouldn’t tumble, Clark traveled far away from the chaos. Hopefully, Nam and Ursa wouldn’t catch him. He had to land it somewhere before the next attack. Everywhere his frantic eyes danced, there were crowds fleeing in a dissipating pattern like dust being blown. At least the streets were beginning to empty.

As Clark lowered, his keen hearing picked up a disturbance. Another car was being tossed. Or at least that’s what he thought at first. Swerving to the side, his eyes picked up that a minivan was tossed. His stomach churned. More cars would mean more potential families getting caught in the crossfire.

Taking the opportunity, Clark flexed himself to descend without rotating himself. His feet touched the ground, and he bent his knees, allowing his body to crouch downward and quickly lower the wheels to make contact with the asphalt. The passengers were briefly jerked as the car’s landing was sudden for them. For a brief glance, Clark saw that the family’s eyes were wide-eyed and staring ahead of them, their lives flashing before them.

One of the daughters looked behind her completely fear-stricken. When her eyes met Clark, he froze. He read through her expression but returned it with a calming demeanor. Through that, fear slowly vanished from her face as she was looking at someone that showed no harm. He nodded at her slightly, to which she nodded back.

Returning his attention, Clark looked back up. Ursa, who still had that insufferable, smug smirk. A surge of anger flared in him. His eyes began glowing red, and he ascended immediately back up. Enough was enough. This has gone too far. Whether it was a mistake to warn the military or not, these Kryptonian fanatics had to understand that they are planning to attack innocent people who never asked for this. Nobody had to get hurt. Nobody had to die. They were scared. It was time to hurt back.

Feeling the heat grow hotter in his eyes, Clark roared through gritted teeth and launched himself upward in a bulleting charge that no one would have time to react. With both his arms outstretched, he slammed himself right into Ursa’s stomach. Holding her with both his arms, he tightened his muscles, strengthening his grip on her. She never expected such an unstoppable attack. The intensity of the wind forced her arms outward, rendering her defenseless against his steadfast tackle.

Clark dove sharply with his teeth bared and arms holding her in place. He had to get her away from a heavily populated area for a start.

For a brief glance, he saw that he was heading toward a road that was plated on a large seawall that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. No people in sight, at least. He turned an angle that just about ran parallel against the road and held Ursa against the asphalt. Cutting through the road, Ursa’s helmet scraped along the dividing pavement, spraying chunks of rock.

* * *

“Jimmy, I need that camera!” Lois shouted over from her cubicle while she endlessly ran her hands through too many damn papers she never bothered to store away.

The floor was now scrambling much more than usual. Several had already begun evacuating; they couldn’t stand being in a potential warzone that had been happening outside. Perry completely understood that. The large TV screen was depicting the entire event in the downtown area of New Troy. The reporter was frighteningly pointing that one of the flying people just struck down an army chopper, but one of them was able to soften its landing before it crashed.

“I got it!” Jimmy shouted.

“Well, get it out,” Lois replied in a hurry as she grabbed her pen. “We need this.”

Her tone shifted him into more agitation, he almost dropped his camera. His second week, and already, he was caught in the middle of a disaster.

The TV screens were all broadcasting breaking news that more flying people have been spotted in the downtown area of the New Troy district. Several eyewitnesses have said that the flying people have begun in some sort of brawl where one of them is fighting off two of them.

A high-pitched buzz pierced the air. Everyone dropped what they were doing as lights began to slowly dim and come back on again in a pattern. It was happening again. Another message from that ship.

The figure on every screen on the planet Earth appeared once more behind a wall of black and white speckles of static.

Lois took notice of it as the image of General Zod appeared. She watched it for a moment, but then remembered that there was still a potential live battle between those aliens. She shook herself out of the stare and proceeded while everyone had their eyes glued to their desktops or smartphones.

“Come on, Jimmy!” Lois pressured as she continued ruffling through her papers.

* * *

Elsewhere, Clark could hear it. While charging through the road with Ursa scraping alongside it beneath him, he recognized the agonizing high-pitched buzz he felt from Zod's earlier broadcast. Feeling his hairline dampening with sweat, he frantically turned his head up to face Zod’s ship and felt the color of his skin fade to white. _He's getting more desperate,_ Clark thought. _He knew that his wife was in danger._ Whatever he had to say now, things are only going to get worse.

* * *

“ _You are in no longer in control of your planet. You are to submit to the Hand of Rao, who is now your new world leaders. Your world weapons will be tendered in our possession. Including your, what you call, ‘nuclear’ weapons. Your weaponry is archaic in comparison to our advanced arsenal. Announce your surrender, and no harm will come to you. Any form of resistance will be met with aggression. You may think this is totalitarianism. This is your safeguard. This isn’t genocide. This is preservation. Show no opposition, and you will be spared. This is the word of General Zod.”_

* * *

Zod keyed on the interface and the transmission ended, feeling a little more accomplished. His message was spread, but Kal’s interference was able to fight off both his finest soldiers, who were supposed to take down any forms of resistance. Pulling up the main monitor, he studied everything that had happened between his troops and Kal. He was both impressed with how well Kal fought against his own forces despite being raised by low-level Earthians.

Zod could feel his stomach squelch when he saw on his monitor that the marker indicating his wife stopped moving where Kal was located. Fingering the console, he enhanced the image and saw that Kal had rammed his wife onto the ground. His face tightened in a near rage. A strong feeling of wanting to rip out Kal’s heart surged through him but he knew better to focus on the only objective. He looked at the monitor for Ursa’s heartbeat, which was pulsing at a slower rate, thankful that it hadn’t gone completely flat.

Zod let out a low growling exhale. None of this was supposed to happen like this. The plan was to dispatch only two of his soldiers to subdue this powerless world government or _governments_ while the rest on his ship had to make sure the rest of the world wasn’t going to strike back. There was a small amount of them. He couldn’t spare any more to fight off Kal . . .

But there might have been one way . . .

Zod pressed several icons on the interface until it displayed a replay image where Kal had gone to right after he broke out of their custody. The footage saw that he was heading towards one of the larger buildings of the city. Kal paused for a few minutes and then he flew out again. Only this time, Kal flew towards another building. This building looked much different than all the other buildings. It was the one where Ursa and Nam had been dispatched to. A large golden sphere had been mounted on top as if it was supposed to represent a higher power.

Zod then saw that a female Earthian walked into view and appeared to have some sort of conversation with Kal. She had dark brown hair and had a very sharp looking look that indicated that she had a tough mind. He studied curiously to see who this woman was. Kal’s body language and gestures with her indicated that it was someone that meant a lot to him.

_A girlfriend, perhaps? Kal in love with an Earthian. Interesting . . ._

He closed out that window and opened a communication interface. The monitor then displayed an establishment with Nam.

As the audio link was connected, Zod leaned in and said, “Nam. Are you there? Respond.”

Nam's narrowed eyes eased themselves as he heard his superior's words. “Yes, General,” he said firm with attention.

Zod knew that Nam was more brutal than he was perceptive but also knew that Nam would never dare to defy his superior.

“Go to the tower with the sphere on its roof. There, you will find an Earthian woman with dark brown hair. Kal seems to have a relationship with her. Find her. Bring her to me. We may be able to use her.”

Nam hesitated, shifting his eyes. His eyesight picked Kal pummeling Ursa into the ground. “General,” he said agitatedly. “Your wife.”

“That's an order,” Zod exclaimed sternly, blocking his emotions concerning Ursa. “Do not fail me.”

Nam swallowed and said, “Yes, General."

Zod switched the communication abruptly off in a swift angry motion. His eyes narrowed in worry and concentration, letting out steady streams of huffs.

Despite his confidence and Nam's warnings, Zod knew that Ursa was in danger and something had to be done.

Why is everything going wrong?

It was a painful shame that it has come to this. Two fellow refugees at war with each other. A descendant of Krypton's most brilliant scientific minds and one descendant of Krypton's finest military commanders. He had hoped that Kal would’ve been more cooperative, but there was no choice given.

The House of Zod never backed down or hesitated to ensure Krypton’s stability. Now, that that was no longer possible, Earth could become their new Krypton.

The possibility of killing Kal would be unbearable . . .

* * *

Clark halted himself, ending the crack that stretched for countless kilometers on the road. Several nearby people fled from the melee. From what he could tell, he saw that Ursa looked dazed and overcome with disorientation. That sight made him feel better. He felt his aggravation began to recede as his opponent was no longer a problem. At least for now. It wasn’t over yet.

_Now, for that other guy . . ._

Clark glanced behind him and saw that where Nam was once suspended in air was no longer there.

His eyes widened in frightening surprise. _Where’d he go?_ Clark cursed that he almost said it out loud. From what he gathered, this guy wasn’t the type to hide and plan a strategy of attack rather than a full head-on assault.


	13. Chapter 13

Lois and Jimmy rushed up the staircase. Jimmy was able to activate his camera as his feet danced along with the steps, trying to keep up with Lois.

She was the one to press her hands against the door and thrust it open, allowing themselves to exit out onto the rooftop of the _Daily Planet._

Brushing the wind-blown hair out of her face, Lois shifted her head upwards in all kinds if directions. She saw that the large alien ship was still suspended in midair, having not moved from its spot since she was last up here.

She knew that the sight of the airborne brawl would be nigh impossible to spot. Her memory told her that the broadcast informed that the fight had been traveling all over until it made a scene at the seawall. Dammit. If the aliens were all the way over there, there’s no way they could get any kind of footage. There was still a chance they could come back here, but there had to be a way.

“See anything?” Lois asked, hoping that he’d see something she couldn’t.

“No,” Jimmy said while scanning the area like she was.

Yeah, didn’t think so.

“Lois!”

She turned her head and saw that Jimmy was pointing at the sky while having his head buried into his viewfinder.

He was pointing at one of the aliens. Though, it didn’t look like Kal-El. This one was wearing a black armor that covered nearly the entirety of his face.

Lois’ eyes widened in alarm. A cold chill filled as she saw that this black-armored alien was speeding towards her with no apparent pace of slowing down. She slowly paced backward away from where she once stood. The alien wasn’t depleting his speed.

She began to bolt away from his incoming attack, but the alien stopped himself suddenly in front of her, sending a wave of wind instead. The alien stood with his feet above in him midair, only a foot or two above the rooftop ground.

Lois yelled, “What the hell—?”

The alien then lunged and grabbed her by her shoulders.

In a rapid movement, the alien then rolled her into one of his arms. He raised his other arm and launched himself off from the guard. Lois released her documents and pen on the rooftop ground and let out a sharp yelp, followed by a distraught cry.

“Lois!” Jimmy panicked as he disregarded his camera and looked upward to find his befriended co-worker being lifted high above and beyond.

Jimmy’s eyes and mouth widened open in fright, feeling helpless.

Through Lois’ fidgeting, Nam spoke into the audio comm in his cuff. “I have the woman,” he said, accomplished.

“Bring her to me,” Zod’s voice said. “The sooner we do this, the sooner Kal will stand down.”

* * *

Clark flew as fast as the remaining energy left in his body would allow, wildly swiveling his head for any sight of Nam. He was feeling a hint of fatigue within him, but this conflict wasn’t over yet. He couldn’t stop now. Anxious thoughts crept in. How much longer could he keep this up? At this rate, it was only a matter of time before he’d tire out and they’d win. If only he could find Nam and put a stop to him too, only _then_ would he go after Zod. He had to do it fast before Ursa came to—

His ears detected a loud hollow boom. He looked and saw that Nam was soaring once more. Only this time, he wasn’t heading towards him this time. He was rather heading away from him. What was also different is that Nam was seemingly holding something.

A _person_?

Feeling fear sending chills through him, Clark impulsively launched himself and darted to Nam’s path. That moment of panic gave him all the adrenaline he needed to fight his inner restraints. With that, Clark increased his speed to a near blinding zoom.

Intensifying his concentration, Clark was nearing more and more while he observed that Nam was heading back towards the Kryptonian still suspended vessel.

Clark then wondered if Nam could hear him approaching. He was aware that the Kryptonians were not used to their enhancements and Ursa couldn’t hear helicopter blades coming from a massive distance earlier. Maybe if there was a way to catch Nam off guard, he could grab whoever he was holding onto. Now, that an innocent person was involved, it’s too risky to try a head-on charge, but time was of the essence.

Clark took a break and slowed himself down in the hopes of a sneak attack. The plan would be to land a blow from behind and catch whoever he’s holding onto. He’d never suspect it and would be completely caught off guard.

Shifting himself to where he was directly behind Nam, Clark relaxed his body to where he slowed down just enough to not ruin any kind of surprise attack. Either way, it would have to be quick and quiet before Nam would reach the ship or receive a heads up from Zod that he was about to be attacked.

Soon enough, Clark heard a loud female scream. The shrill definitely came from the person Nam had hostage. Clark listened closer and he could make out that the woman began shouting exclamations and demands to be let down. There was something familiar about that voice. He swore he could’ve heard that before earlier today—

Clark felt a rush of panic, followed by a small gasp.

Lois.

 _Keep it together,_ Clark told himself. That's what they're counting on. Composing himself, it then came to him. They knew about this. This was their strategy. All he had to do was to keep the same distance and strike when the time comes. Lois' screams continued, and it gave Clark so much temptation to rush himself head-on, but he knew better. Thankfully, Lois wasn’t facing his direction either, so she couldn’t inadvertently shout out his name and give his location. He had to make his move before—

A low rumble caught Clark’s ears.

_Oh, no._

He turned his head to the side where the noise came from and he spotted two more choppers that were so far away, yet they were making their way towards them.

Clark cursed under his breath. Was it a mistake to warn the military? In a few seconds, they will be spotted and there’ll be more things to handle. And worse—Lois will be caught in the crossfire.

* * *

“Bravo 1, this is Alpha 1,” Sam said into the microphone of his radio while monitoring the large black vessel that continued hovering over the city. “Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear. HMD is also clear.”

Sam clacked on the keyboard and on his monitor, the pilot

“Confirmed, Alpha 1. Two hostiles heading towards the aircraft, sir. Permission to engage hostiles?”

Sam looked back at the monitor. The flyers were ubiquitous and swiftly took out a chopper in the blink of an eye. The larger aircraft, on the other hand, still hadn’t attacked, let alone move. It was still over a populated area, but the city was under attack. Nothing could stop that. Then again, how would he know that the aircraft would be impervious to something like an air to air missile? Machine gun fire couldn’t penetrate the aliens' armor. Time was running out. It’s either a risk to take or do nothing at all.

He swallowed in the fact that people would die and said, “take out the large aircraft. Acknowledge.”

“Copy, Alpha 1.”

* * *

The choppers maintained their trajectory. By now, they were closing in and their traveling was becoming louder and louder.

Clark looked and saw Nam completely spin around and felt a knot in his stomach.

Giving off a smug smile, Nam swung his loaded arm around, revealing a thrashing Lois in his grasp.

“Hold fire! Hold fire!” Bravo 1 stressed. “Hostile in possession of a hostage. Repeat—hostile has a hostage.”

The choppers slowed their pursuit and remained suspended in midair. Sam watched this on the monitor and saw that the marker for the invaders was still in place in front of the choppers.

“Bravo 1,” Sam said on the radio. “What’s going on?”

“They have a hostage,” the pilot answered. “They have a woman.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “Give me a visual, Bravo 1.”

The pilot tried to get the HMD to focus more on the aliens. “Two hostiles are facing each other. One of them has a hostage.” There was a moment of calculating silence. “It looks as if the other one is trying to . . . talk.”

* * *

On the monitor, Zod was watching two hostiles making their way around Kal and Nam. From what Zod just saw, they separated from their formation, which was originally heading towards Nam.

Good. They saw that he had the woman.

They were nowhere near as fast as his fellow Kryptonians, but he had assumed they were in some kind of weaponized vehicles built to take down airborne ships.

* * *

Clark felt the heat in his eyes while he watched Nam gloating. The sound of Lois’ screams egged him to launch himself and gather all the energy he had to tackle himself right into Nam’s heart. But he knew better. He boomed upward with a clenched fist and eyes reddened, feeling the righteous ferocity flow.

Nam’s peripheral vision picked up Clark charging wildly. On instinct, Nam shifted his body to where he was fully facing Clark and having Lois being in complete view. He was careful enough to not have Lois slip and fall, otherwise there would be no use of leverage.

Clark halted himself with almost no graduality about several yards away from Nam. He made sure he was right at the same eye level as his foe and got himself in a readied stance for any quick sneak attack.

Nam maintained that insufferable leer that Clark so badly wanted to punch.

“Stand down,” he said.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Clark warned. “There is no reason for these people to get hurt.”

Nam dropped his pomposity and turned more serious. “General told us that a few blood drops will be nothing compared to the danger outside of your planet, son of El.”

Clark didn’t want to hear another justification. “Put her down!”

“Stand down, Kal!” Nam countered. “Along with the rest of this planet’s defenses.”

Feeling the furious anxiety take his breath away, Clark glanced around. He shot an observation at Lois, who had a face of horror and wondering what the next move was going to be. Nam was holding his position firmly, and finally—the choppers were standing still. From what he saw, the pilots were not stirring any kind of fretting movement.

Fighting the pounding of his heart, Clark shot a look at Zod’s ship once again, still as ever. Zod’s soldiers were too formidable to fight off indefinitely, Zod is unwilling to negotiate, and he couldn’t endanger any more civilians. There was one possible way to end this, but it would have to involve them all being on the ship at once. But it would still be risky if they would be taking Lois back on their ship.

Turning back to the pilots, Clark carefully held out a palm to signify to hold their actions.

* * *

“What the hell’s he doing?” Bravo 1 asked out loud.

Sam concentrated harder on Bravo 1’s HMD. “Bravo 1, focus on the hostage and increase resolution.”

The pilot blinked his free eye and tightened his focus on the alien that carried the woman and then tapped a button on the side of his HMD’s panel. The HMD’s image zoomed in on the woman. Fidgeting with the HMD’s controls, the image turned sharper as he tried to enhance it.

Sam, on the other end, watched from where he was on Bravo 1’s HMD. After fingering a couple of keys, Sam maximized Bravo 1’s HMD image to cover his monitor. The image was clear enough and he saw Nam holding the woman. The woman’s face appeared, but the image was still processing, just a little more—

Sam felt as if his heart had jumped all the way up to his throat.

_Lois._

“Oh, my God. It’s your daughter, sir,” the pilot exclaimed.

Sam’s eyes remained wide open with nothing to say on the radio. Lois and that alien were both right.

“Bravo 1,” Sam said urgently. “Focus on the other one.”

The monitor from Sam’s point of view panned over to the side and it focused on the alien that saved Guardian 1 from earlier. The blue-suited alien had his palm outward to encourage to back off.

Sam tightened his brows in anger. Who the hell does he think he is, giving them orders, knowing fully well this isn’t his own planet? This was all because they wanted _him._

* * *

Facing Nam, Clark urged himself ever so slowly towards him with almost the same outstretched palm he was holding. “Alright,” he said calmly. “We'll stand down. Just relax. I just need to get them to stand down too.”

Nam gave a comprehending nod.

Clark backed away and floated toward the chopper. He knew what he was about to say now wasn’t going to make things any easier.

The pilot of the chopper eyed him through his HMD and felt a deathly chill. The picture within the scope zoomed out as it found its focus on the blue-suited alien.

Clark approached the pilot's window. “Stand down,” he cried over the loud whirling blades above him.

* * *

Sam uttered into the radio firmly, “Bravo 1, what the hell is he doing?”

“He’s telling us to stand down, sir.”

Sam made a silent angry grunt. His daughter's life is hanging in the balance and standing down was not something he was prepared to do. “Get him to talk to me, Bravo 1. That's an _order.”_

“Yes, sir.”

The pilot reached for the handle, and the door popped open, letting the outside air cause a disturbance in his hearing.

Clark curiously and cautiously approached the open door and saw the pilot in clear plain sight.

“The general wants to talk to you,” the pilot shouted out to him. The pilot removed his HMD and headset that connected his audio link to General Lane.

Clark nodded in comprehension and leaned in further. The pilot carefully handed the headset over and Clark placed his hands on both sides so the raucous of the choppers’ blades wouldn't interfere in his already heightened hearing.

“General Lane,” Clark addressed.

“What in the name of God are you doing?” Sam demanded.

“General, listen to me. You need to stand down now.”

“You are not in a position to give me orders!” Sam spat. “Understand something, son: they are holding my daughter. That's my _daughter_ they're holding tight there.”

“I know,” Clark said humbly.

“I sent in my troops like you wanted. One of them is down, and now, you're telling me to stand down? And this isn't even your planet. You don’t give orders to me.”

Frustration stirred in Clark but reciprocating his tone would get them nowhere. Sam was understandably upset.

“I only called you to warn you, General,” Clark explained himself. “I'm not here to hurt you—"

“Then get out of here!” Sam scowled.

“I can't do that General,” Clark said, his voice more assertive. “I'm not their target. This planet is, and this city is going to be their starting point. You're going to need all the help you can get.”

“Then what exactly do you plan on _doing?”_ Sam growled slowly.

“That ship is powered by something they’ve called a phantom drive. From what they’ve told me, it operates by a gravitational pull, but it’s done by an unstable engine. If anything disrupts it from the inside, it’ll cause a singularity.”

“Are you telling me that you would be able to pull them into some sort of black hole?” Sam asked, wondering if he heard that correctly.

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered. “I can get into their engine room and blast the phantom drive. When that happens, it should create a large suction of anything surrounding it. That should suck in everyone onboard that ship back into another dimension called the ‘Phantom Zone’.”

There was an awkward silence on the other line.

“It’s like a prison,” Clark hesitantly explained in a tone that was less awkward than he was feeling.

On the other side, Sam made a look as if whoever he was talking to was insane.

“Sir,” Clark said. “I know this sounds crazy—”

“It _does_ sound crazy,” Sam interrupted. “It doesn’t sound assuring.”

“I know it doesn’t. But if this has to work, you have to make it look like you are surrendering.”

Clark dithered for another statement.

“And I need you to trust me on this because I have never been more serious in my life. While that goes on, I need you to cause a distraction once I catch them off guard. When the time is right, you have to open fire on that ship.”

 _“Open fire?”_ Sam yelled.

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered calmly. “Hit them and hit them hard. Hit them with everything you’ve got. Missiles, bombs, whatever. Whatever you have to give them the kind of distraction you need.”

“You’re asking me to open fire on where they are taking my daughter!”

“Your daughter will be safe and secured onboard,” Clark said, understanding his anger. Time was running short. If this plan was going to work, it had to be now. The only thing that Zod would be counting on is surrender. Now, that they have a hostage, he would call in his soldiers. Nothing would be attacking the city now.

“Even if I were to blow that thing, it could fall back into the city killing God knows how many!”

“General,” Clark continued, “I’ll be there. On that ship, I’ll be there too. I will promise you, on my _life,_ that your daughter will be unharmed. She will get out of that ship, and that ship will never hit the city. I give you my word.”

“How?” Sam insisted.

“I can protect her.” Clark then swallowed. “. . . because you’re right. I _am_ like them. I have the same kind of strength as they do. But with the right amount of weaponry you have, it’ll give me the exact time I need to break out of there with your daughter.”

“And the ship?”

“I can move it out of the way.”

“‘Move it out of the way?’. Why the hell would I believe _you?”_

Clark then said more vigorously, “Because with all due respect _,_ General, the reason why I warned you earlier is because _I_ trusted _you_. Already, one of your men crash-landed, and I saved his life. Now, I'm asking you to trust me. From one person to another. _Man_ to man. From one world to another. I give you my word that your daughter will be returned safely.”

That agonizing pause occurred again. Though, that pause was too familiar now. Clark could tell that Sam was definitely conceding.

Painful seconds passed and Sam said, “If anything happens to my daughter, and if for any reason I don’t like what I see, I am holding you personally responsible.”

“Understood,” Clark said softly.

“How long should we delay until fire?”

“At least five minutes.”

“I’m gonna need more than five minutes to have everything I need to open fire at that thing,” Sam explained.

“What kind of things do you need prepared?”

“I’m going to need at least several fighter jets—things that we use to shoot down. I also have a submarine out on the ocean. A submarine is a ship that can travel underwater—”

“Yes. I know what a submarine is,” Clark said awkwardly.

“Once I have those in place, I can open fire, giving you the time you’ll need.”

Clark nodded at the pilot, who still had his scope eyeing him. He then drifted himself away from the chopper and looked back at Nam, who continued holding Lois. He then looked to his side and saw that Ursa, still smudged from the earlier scuffle, was now making her way towards them. She wore a deep face of fury and hatred, more so than he had already seen from her.

After she placed herself at Nam’s side, Clark approached them, but slowly enough not to make any sudden movements to suggest an attack.

“We’re surrendering,” Clark said humbly. “I’ve told them to stand down as long as you don’t attack.”

Nam chuckled and wore that smug that Clark hated so much by now. By this point, he was very tempted to just attack them right now.

“Alright,” Nam said smoothly. “You will follow us back to General Zod’s ship. From there, you will be restrained once more. We will then begin our subjugation giving Earth a new order.”

Clark made a barely noticeable scoff. “Think that your boss would make that announcement better than you,” he glared.

Nam was pleased by his enthusiasm. Ursa kept leering. Clark glanced at Lois, who looked back at him. While she was frightened, she also had a concerned expression, wondering what ‘Kal’s’ plan was.

“Follow us,” Nam said. “Slowly. No detours.”

Nam and Ursa drifted away and headed back to where Zod’s ship was. Clark studied their pathway before glancing back at the pilot in the chopper. Eyeing the pilot, Clark gave a nod.

* * *

Sam Lane couldn’t believe what he was doing. That damned alien. Asking him to put his daughter at risk. They were at war. This alien had to understand that there are consequences for putting people on the line. Not to mention, that there’ll be the Secretary of Defense and president to answer to after this insane day, and that’s if they live through it. The bureaucratic pressure from his superiors was relentless enough. Even if he were to go along with the alien’s plan, he would have a lot to answer to his superiors. At the same time, the concern for Lois was more than he had ever felt in a long time.

Lt. General Calvin’s eyes widened with concern and skepticism. He watched Sam’s internal fighting with himself. He may have been in command of the situation, but someone personal can have an effect. “Sir,” he said skeptically, “you’re not actually going to believe him, are you?”

“You saw what they saw!” Sam argued. “They have my _daughter!”_

Calvin drew himself back a bit. “General, these aliens are shown to have absolutely no vulnerability to our weaponry. They couldn’t even penetrate their foot soldiers’ armor. This is wasting time. That alien you’ve been speaking to is stalling for time. The more time we delay, the more time they have to mobilize.”

“Then what do _you_ suggest?” Sam accused. “You just said that we can’t even scratch them.” Sam then calmed himself. After a moment of silent calculation, he then said, “I don’t trust this man either. I don’t know who he is or where the hell he’s from. But he _did_ warn me, and here we are now. I didn’t want to listen to my daughter, and now they have her.”

Calvin looked as if he was about to speak, but Sam interrupted him. “Call the National Guard. I want to coordinate with them myself and have our troops standing by for an attack. Get them ready and have them wait for my order.”

Calvin blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Also, get in touch with Colonel Ray. I also want to coordinate with the National Guard and have them begin with mandatory evacuation procedures immediately.”

“Sir, in that amount of time, we can’t expect—”

“Just do it!” Sam barked. “We don’t have an option!”

Calvin hurriedly danced his fingers on the keyboard of his phone.

Sam huffed through his nose, feeling sweat seething through his forehead at the mention of a large weapon that may or may not blow that damn ship out of the sky. It was also frustrating that Calvin was right. In this amount of time, there was absolutely no way the entire city could be evacuated. Evacuation might not even matter. Innocent people were going to get caught in the crossfire.

Gulping the grimness, Sam asked, “Is the U.S.S. Vickery on standby?”

“Yes, sir. They’re armed with the CALCM missile. They’re still waiting for your order.”

* * *

Clark maintained himself to keep up with the two Hand of Rao soldiers. Ursa kept looking back to make sure he wouldn’t try anything foolish. Not that she would expect him to. Clark barely paid attention to her. His focus was aimed solely at Nam—or more notably, Lois. All she could do was let out a series of grunts and strains, trying to find comfort in her awkwardly held position. She never better to not fight her way out of a situation that would mean falling to her death below.

“You assholes are _so_ screwed!” she exclaimed.

Nam’s answer was only a smug chuckle.

“My dad is an Army general,” she warned them.

“And this _general_ just surrendered at the behest of your ally, female,” Ursa growled. “And let it be known that your status is conditional. Whatever shape you will be returned will be up to you.”

“Alright then,” Lois snarled. “You and me, girlfriend. On the ground.”

Ursa displayed a disgusted face before returning her sight at Zod’s ship while muttering something about Earthians being so stubborn and persistent. Nam just snickered while shaking his head.

 _Military brats,_ Clark thought. _Good to know that she still has some spunk._

Soon enough, they had reached right in front of the ramp that had already been outstretched to meet them. The four entered the ship once more and Clark found himself in the same room that had swelled astonishment in him the first time. Several Hand of Rao Kryptonians were holding their guard ready. They were holding, what Clark could interpret, some kind of assault rifles. It was an odd sight. Even when granted with aptitudes that would go beyond human limits, it didn’t deter their customs of battle.

Zod once again appeared on the top ledge that overlooked the entire entrance hall.

“Your demonstrations have proven to be quite amusing, son of Jor-El,” Zod said darkly. “For a man raised his life on a planet with limited artillery and limited principles, you are, indeed, a powerful Kryptonian. Someone whose father would be proud of—as well as our military.”

There was still that moment of five minutes needed. He had to stall them, somehow. Clark released a subtle chuckling smirk. “Am I supposed to say, ‘thank you’?”

“On the contrary, yes. I’ve practically shown you what I can do. What I can do for you and this planet you claim is yours when your inheritance cries from the world that is rightfully yours.”

“That’s your problem,” Clark accused. “You’re all about claiming and not embracing.”

Zod made a look as if to study him. “Very well then. Then _embrace_ us. Take a look at what we can do. What _you_ can do. You said so yourself. Your planet’s people fear you. You can make them not fear you. Make them listen. Set terms for agreement.”

“You're still missing the point,” Clark said. “There _is_ no force.”

Zod’s face toughened and said bitterly, “Then a handful of Earthians will die in five minutes if you don't do what I say. Starting with this one. Right now.”

He gave a gesture towards Ursa, who was holding onto a struggling Lois. She kept thrashing trying to get herself free. Anxiously, she looked at Clark, anticipating that he'd make a move.

For a brief second, Clark showed a face of horror when he saw Lois. Shortly, the familiar heat flared once again. Clark took a few steps forward with his brows hardened. “You're willing to kill innocent people to prove a point, and you're calling that ‘protection’?”

Zod released an impatient scoff. “Do tell then, son of Jor-El, you are a man with far greater stamina than anyone on this planet. They are weak and compromised. You are a pariah among them. You are a _god_ to them, yet you live among them. Your Kryptonian blood runs deep, and you never exploited it. How can you not see the glory of your superiority? You are not an Earthian. You are a Kryptonian. Embrace your Kryptonian heritage!”

* * *

“Sir,” Calvin said while holding the phone. “Vickery has a lock on the ship. Awaiting your orders.”

Sam didn’t look at his colleague. His eyes had been glued on the monitor that showed what the satellite images were displaying. Lois was on that ship and one way or another, she may not make it out of this alive.

Sam took a silent deep breath and swallowed. “Take it out.”

* * *

Before he could make a countering answer, Clark heard it. It was extremely faint, but it was there. There was a distant echo of a whistle. It started that way, but it slowly evolved its way into a low booming whoosh that rose. A missile. It was loud enough to be obvious, but their hearing was still not accustomed to his. The time was now. Clark remained in his position while mentally preparing for a bolt.

Softening his tone, he said, “You're wrong. We’re not gods. It’s not up to us to decide what's needed. We were given a power. But that does _not_ give us the right to take control of anything or anyone. The only thing I am in control of is myself. Krypton bred me, but Earth _made_ me. This world doesn’t belong to anyone. Not me. Not even you.”

Their missiles are getting closer. Just seconds away from impact.

“General!” Jax-Ur cried. “They’ve begun their attack!”

Clark cursed under his breath. So much for a surprise attack.

Zod looked around him before giving Clark an angry glare. “What did you tell them?” he demanded.

Clark then gave a smirk. “You're trespassing.”

Zod snapped his head toward the monitor. From what he could see, dozens of weapons have opened fire at them. A cluster of projectiles from different directions began approaching them at massive velocities. A split second followed, and everyone in the room could hear the faint booming of explosions pounding against the thick armor outside. Everyone danced their eyes around them.

Clark scrutinized his surroundings. _They’re all distracted now._ _One swift movement. Make it count._

Adrenaline kicked in, and Clark charged at a blurring speed towards Ursa, who was completely absorbed by the current situation. Clark landed a hard elbow at her temple, sending her down.

Nam turned his head.

Gotta be quick now.

Clark then sped next to Nam and landed a fist right at his forehead. Nam was knocked back at a velocity that just about matched Clark’s movement. He was sent back and landed hard against the wall.

Lois was free from Nam’s grasp. Now was the time to take her to safety. General Lane’s efforts now depended on this.

Zod bared his teeth. This had gone far enough. He tried making it painless as much as possible by sending only two of his soldiers. If these Earthians only respond to one of their cities being destroyed, then so be it. He spoke into his wrist com. “Prepare the countdown for the cannon!”

Clark's heart froze. When did this ship have weapons? He didn’t remember seeing anything from the ship that had any type of gunnery. There was no time to have regrets. He had a promise to keep, and if he was going to keep it, he had to act now.

He glanced over to where Lois was. His heart missed a beat. He had been careless. Ursa was holding one of Lois' arms behind her back in a forceful grip while her other arm was wrapped around her neck.. Facing Clark, Ursa then shifted herself away from the room and proceeded through a doorway that would lead beyond his eyesight.

“Your city is about to be destroyed, Kal,” Ursa said. “You brought this on yourself. Convince your world’s army to stand down now, or we’ll kill her.”

Clark felt his heart pounding . . . until he looked and saw Lois. She had this peculiar look. One look in her eyes and Clark could read that she had something in mind. Without showing his curiosity, he allowed himself to hold his position.

“I was trained in military, sweetheart,” Lois said through Ursa’s grip. “I know how to get out.”

She then slanted her body a little downward and swung her foot backward hard.

The impact only made a soft tap on Ursa’s thigh armor. She tried again. Nothing.

Clark could’ve laughed at this. He knew exactly what she was doing now.

Ursa narrowed her eyebrows. This was a feeble attempt and it wasn’t harming her as much as amusing her. “You’re not strong enough to hurt me, female,” she growled in overconfidence.

Lois then stopped thrashing. “Of course, I’m not, you dumb bitch!” Lois exclaimed before gesturing her head at Clark. “ _He_ is!”

Ursa snapped her attention ahead of her.

Clark flared his eyes and strengthened his sight at Ursa. Now was the time. Two beams of redness emitted a high-pitched hum and fired themselves right at Ursa’s forehead.

Releasing Lois, who immediately ran away, Ursa let out a scream and held her searing pained head. Zod tried to sprint towards his injured wife, but Clark, after years and years of training, was much faster.

Clark hurled a charged fist into Ursa’s chest, and she was sent against the blue wall, which smacked her back down to the floor.

Her firearm that was once tucked on her side fell loose. Feeling the military experience instinct kicking in, Lois dove and snatched it from off the floor.

Clark was then knocked forward by an unseen force. He hit the wall hard without breaking the impenetrable material.

“Lois, run!” Clark bellowed through gritted teeth.

Fighting the faintness, his peripheral vision did detect Lois exiting his eyesight and swore he did see Lois make her way into one of the doorways that led away from the main hangar room.

Before Clark could recover from the impact, Zod made his way over and reached out at the back of Clark’s head, grabbing a fistful of hair. Clark yelled out in agony as he felt the unrelenting fury in Zod’s yank. He then felt a sharp pain stab him in the back from a hurled fist.

And then another. Another.

In pain and frustration, Clark let out a roar and swung a reckless arm behind him as hard and fast as he would allow himself. The arm found Zod, who then grunted from its attack. Clark felt the grip on his hair loosen a bit, but Zod was unyielding to release.

Lois was still inside, somewhere. He had to be released before Nam and Ursa would join the melee and they would surely finish him off.

Too late.

Clark tried another swing, but Nam charged a hard-knuckled fist into Clark’s cheek, turning his face to the side. The pain formed a swelling on his face and the taste of blood aroused in his mouth. A low-buzzing noise rung through his ears and everything around him seemed less relevant. He no longer felt the ache from Zod holding his hair, but still felt the force of it. They were definitely not messing around anymore.

Clark blinked and everything around him sharpened.

“Find the female!” Clark heard Zod exclaim behind him. “Bring her back to the bridge and engage all weapons. We’ll see how these Earthians respond with blood on their hands.”

Clark growled and winced to fight the pain. He turned around and hurled a fist at Zod’s face. Zod grunted in pain and stumbled a bit. That was the distraction needed for Clark to pull himself free from his grasp, but Zod recovered in a split second.

Zod swung an arm at Clark’s direction but narrowly missed.

Clark heard a charging roar coming from Nam.

Quickly, Clark held up a bent arm where his elbow was confronting Nam’s direction. Clark charged forward and landed hard against Nam’s stomach area.

While flying, Clark heard Nam letting out a surprised wide-eyed gasping yell. Heading upward and still having Nam on the end of his elbow, Clark then reached back with his other hand and landed a fist into Nam’s cheek.

Nam dropped hard and fast to the ground, where cracks sprouted from underneath him.

Zod was coming at him again. They weren’t giving him time to breathe.

It was time to escape.

Under tremendous pressure, Clark flexed his body, allowing him to sidestep fast from Zod’s outreaching fist.

Another punch thrown, but Clark saw it coming. Taking the initiative, he twirled away from the assail. Flexing his muscles, Clark gathered the speed to shift from where he was to the same hallway where Lois was last seen. He looked, but he only saw a long hallway that led to nowhere. Sweat leaked from his forehead. Zod would fire back on the city at any second and the U.S. army would pay the price, along with thousands of others.

“Your female companion won’t get far,” Zod snarled.


	14. Chapter 14

Lois was almost out of breath. Her heart felt as if it was about to pump its way out of her chest.

Fear and exhaustion was never a good combination.

Everywhere she looked, there was nothing to indicate that there was a safe place to hide. Nothing that would seem like she could easily squeeze herself underneath. It was a curious looking ship. Nothing like she would ever picture an alien ship, at least from a fantasy. The only bright side to all this—assuming she’d live to tell about it, that this would also make a headline. At least, that’s what she told herself o ease her composure.

She was onboard something high in midair and it’s not like she could just walk out. That alien, Kal-El, was her only ticket out of here.

“Where the hell is he?” she whispered to herself shakily.

Wherever he was, he could take on those guys. She hoped. She could cry for help, but that might make the wrong guys come for her instead.

She kept rushing through the endless blue glassy hallways with no direction as if running through a hall of mirrors. No matter where she turned, she could’ve sworn she saw someone else, though it only turned out to be her reflection on the walls that stared back at her. The only sound heard was the faint booming outside of U.S. military weapons. It was low, but soft enough for her to hear her own heartbeat overlapping it. There was also the sound of clanging, almost as if something on the inside of the ship was being hit by something. _Kal-El was probably fighting them off_ , she thought to herself. She hoped it was exactly that and not the sound of his ass getting handed to him.

Taking caution to not make any kind of noise, she hustled to more and more senseless rooms until she heard another noise. Only this sound wasn’t loud like the commotion that occurred away.

This sounded nearer.

What was more curious is that it sounded like a deep and hollow inhaling and exhaling, like a large monstrous creature, breathing in a pulsating-like rhythm. Whatever that was, it was at the end of the opposite side of the hallway wherever the hell she was now.

Following the pattern of the rhythm, there was a light that faded in and out on the corner. Trembling, she nudged herself closer to the corner. Ever so slowly, her eyesight made the wall’s corner uncover a much larger room than any other she had previously seen.

The room had numerous tubes that she had assumed were some kind of pipes that spread out in a seemingly inconsistent pattern.

_Must be the engine room,_ she thought to herself.

She saw that she was standing at the highest point of the room. The rest of the room was downward, and the blue light was now coming from beneath the maze of metal tubes, creating a grid-like configuration of shadows.

Squinting for a sharper vision, she then saw that the blue light was coming from a large machine that seemed to have attached itself against the wall, where the metal pipes seem to originate from.

A loud bang shook her.

She turned around to face the commotion, but nothing was there. Whatever was going on away from where she was, it was getting closer and closer.

Thinking this was the only way, she proceeded into the room and found several stairways that led downward towards the large blue-light machine.

The clanging grew louder and louder from above.

* * *

Clark was thrown against the wall again. He could feel the wetness of blood on his lips. Sweat made his loose locks stick to his forehead, drenched in tiredness and fatigue. With each blow against him, he could feel his strength dying and his vision lessening.

Weakly lifting his head, he caught the sight that Nam and Ursa were charging at him again. There was no telling how much longer he was going to take more of this. He had to find that phantom drive, or it will have been for nothing. With Lois nowhere to be seen, there were now two problems to deal with, and one was heavily outweighing the other.

Clark sidestepped from their assault, but they more or less anticipated that.

Ursa reacted first and charged again in Clark’s sidestepping direction.

This had gone far enough. It was time to find Lois and get the hell out of there. If there was any luck, she would be near the engine room. General Lane would open fire on them any second. If he delayed, they would be obliterated.

Clark bent himself backward, narrowly dodging Ursa’s swing until his point of view was upside down. Noticing the same doorway where Lois exited, he barrel rolled until he was right side-up. He then charged himself and flew through the doorway.

Every nerve in Zod flared in him. Not even his own best general and wife could stop someone who was never trained to fight in his life. How could it be this difficult? He turned his head around and faced the general direction of all those who had been faithful in his vision for the Hand of Rao. It was time for the army’s full potential to be used.

“Find him!” he commanded. “And _please_ ,” he growled through clenched teeth, “ _don’t_ damage the ship!”

* * *

Clark’s breathing accelerated like it never had in his life. The searing hot sensation of panic couldn’t even trigger a countermeasure from his suit. Ignoring the sweat, he charged further and further into the bowels of the vessel. The corridors were becoming less narrow and there were more sharp corners to be ready for. All around him, was nothing but speeding blue blurriness that only added more nausea when his eyes were curious enough. Trying to remember the directions towards the engine room when Zod showed it to him would be too difficult. A glance from behind told him that there was nothing, but it was also too great a risk.

Pausing for a moment of calm made him listen out for any type of noise that Lois would be making, but nothing was detected. At least that would deter any chances of them finding her before he did.

He flexed his eyes and the walls became more transparent. A few precious seconds followed, and he saw Lois from a distance. She was barely visible from the combination of distance and the number of walls that separated them.

Before he made a move, Clark heard someone whooshing after him from behind. He dared not to look back, though he knew they were gaining. Impulsively, he charged himself in the only directions where there were openings. Finding Lois required extra concentration; right now, he had to get away.

Clark was about to make a sharp turn around a corner, but he felt a clenched fist wrap around his ankle. He was then thrown backward, and his back slammed into a wall. Nam wasn’t wasting any time making his next move. Nam then lunged a fist right into Clark’s face. Luckily, Clark held an open hand and caught Nam’s attack. Immediately, Clark slammed his head into Nam’s face, making him flinch. With his free arm and in an expedient movement, he hurled a fist into Nam’s chin.

Clark felt more confident that by now, he was starting to understand their attack patterns and fighting techniques. He’d still be rather avoiding a fight, nevertheless. They were still too advanced for him.

Continuing his trek for Lois, Clark flexed his eyes once more and darted further into the seemingly endless maze of blue glass.

He saw Lois again and she was about the same distance as he last saw her. A moment of confusion clouded him as he saw that she was descending in altitude as if she was hustling down a staircase of some kind.

Clark recognized that kind of room. It amazed him that she found the engine room in this short amount of time. Maintaining his x-ray vision, he concentrated on where Lois was, while glancing around him to see if there was a series of doorways that would lead him to the threshold of the engine room.

Now, it was definitely a maze.

* * *

Zod stared at the large monitor. The booming from outside hadn’t faltered. There were no damage reports on their ship, but their ammunition wouldn’t cease. Why would they continue firing? Are they really that deluded into thinking they could have a chance? This was a waste of time. Finding the woman or not, this had gone way too long.

“How long until we decimate this settlement?” Zod asked Jax.

“Three minutes,” he answered.

Zod felt more relaxed. The Earthians were no closer into permeating through their defenses and it would be a matter of time before this city would be no more. Only _then_ would these stubborn creatures listen to him. As for Kal, he would have plans for him later.

* * *

Feeling the heat of frustration, Sam never took his eyes off the satellite image projected in front of him. Every pilot had been firing at this thing for the past two minutes now. This wasn’t working. For every minute that passes, Lois would have less of a chance of getting out of there.

“Sir,” Calvin said from behind. “Commander Siegel onboard the U.S.S. Gambit. He’s recommending a nuclear strike against that ship.”

Sam nearly shuddered and felt the colors draining from him. “Negative,” he nearly shouted. “Tell him to stand down on that order. My daughter is on that ship and I don’t want a single nuclear missile hitting that thing. Tell him that is direct order and I won’t tolerate any second guessing bullshit.”

“Yes, sir,” Calvin answered firmly before returning to his phone.

* * *

Clark could see that he was getting closer to Lois. She was becoming more opaque as less walls were now blocking his x-ray vision of her. From his observation, she was now huddling at the bottom of the engine room. She lowered herself on the floor in a corner with her arms against the walls, listening out for anything.

“Lois!” Clark bellowed.

Her eyes danced around along with her head.

“Stay where you are! Don’t move!”

Lois looked around her and saw that the staircase she used earlier was her only means of escaping.

“No problem!” she called out giving a look.

Clark’s flight pattern was interrupted when his arms were held back by another pair of arms. This kind of strength didn’t feel as hard as Nam’s; it was Ursa.

Fighting his body strength for flying, Ursa veered them upward and Clark scraped his head alongside the ceiling. Grunting, he barrel rolled and dropped himself to the ground where Ursa was pounded into, below him.

Ursa lessened her grasp, and Clark sprawled his arms outward, freeing himself. He lifted his upper body and swung one arm upward and suddenly swung it backward. He missed as Ursa moved her head to the side and Clark’s elbow only met the floor. Ursa countered with a fist to Clark’s cheek from behind.

Turning over from the force, Clark then spun around while still on the floor, and landed a sudden fist into Ursa’s face.

Ursa was too quick and pushed his fist away with her arm and swiped a chop at his throat.

Clark’s eyes grew wide and held his neck, feeling the air struggling to make a safe passage.

Ursa quickly spun around, allowing herself to regain her standing position while Clark stumbled, fighting the hot pain in his neck and also quickly stood up. Both were softly panting but tried not to show their weariness.

“You really think it matters if you know more about enhanced physiology or not?” she growled.

Clark narrowed his eyebrows and glared. “This is your last warning. You might think you have me cornered and I’m at a disadvantage, but I promise you, you’re about to make a big mistake.”

He ever so slightly crouched his body. “ _Stand down. Now._ ”

Ursa smirked. He was so desperate. “You are the one to surrender, Kal,” she sneered. “Earth will be under our control. One way or another you will cooperate.”

Clark pursed his lips in anger and slightly turned his head in disappointment.

They had their chance.

Clark spun around quick and lifted himself, darting through another doorway, arms spread out.

Ursa pursued with Nam only trailing.

Igniting his x-ray vision, Clark was closer to Lois but had to get a higher point in order to access the engine room.

At last, he reached the room where the staircase would begin its descent. The sound of the pulsating phantom drive echoed. A brief second of relief followed, and Clark flew down through the metal structures platforms, spraying shrapnel where he went. The kryptonite material gave him several noticeable scrapes along the way but tightened his muscles to fight through the pain. He made himself a gap between where he would land next to Lois so debris wouldn’t harm her.

He crashed from above and stood himself on the floor and Lois covered her head with her arms from potential damage.

He reached out with an open palm. “I’m getting you out of here”—

“Hold it right there!”

That was a voice that didn’t sound like Ursa or Nam.

Zod was in a standing position, but he was in midair, softly descending himself through the holes that Clark burst through. From what Clark also sighted, Ursa and Nam followed respectively. A couple of seconds later, and even more Hand of Rao Kryptonians descended along with the rest of their comrades. Clark’s stomach turned as he saw far more Kryptonians than he anticipated join the fray.

Zod’s expression was wearing a slight smile. Though, this kind of smile was telling Clark that this was the calm before the storm. “With every passing minute, you continue to impress me. If I had not known better I'd say you were a Zod yourself.”

His expression then turned colder. “My finest soldiers weren’t enough to subdue you,” Zod spoke calmly, giving a look at Nam, who returned a look of shame and Ursa pursed her lips in guilty silence. “Perhaps my entire legion would be in order.”

When Zod fully descended and met Clark’s eye level, and Clark’s fears turned true. Zod dropped his platitude and then exhibited a burning stare with his arms folded. The stare lasted for a period of time that was enough to give Clark a chill.

“But I have grown tired of your games and your clever prevarications, Kal.” Zod said before noticeably shaking his head as if disappointed. “I despise you for making me do this,” his voice sounding quiet, but no doubt furious.

He zoomed and landed a fist into Clark, who was sent back against the wall.

Before could recover, he saw a blurring motion of Zod heading straight for Lois. Clark’s feet found the floor, but he then stopped in his tracks.

Zod held Lois’ neck with one hand and lifted her up slightly enough for her toes to make contact with the floor. Nam and Ursa made their way to the floor and had their arms folded, displaying expressions of calm victory.

“This is on _you,_ Kal!” Zod yelled. “My troops have made too many mistakes, so now _I_ will be the one to tell you this one last time!

He turned his head back toward Clark. “Surrender _now,_ or her head will be all that is left at your feet.”

Clark tightened his lips as he watched Lois gasping hoarsely for air. Her legs jolted around, but only her toes could make contact and not have her feet completely leveled.

Zod’s expression remained the same. “Perhaps this will make you decide more quickly.”

He raised his arm and Lois’ feet no longer met the floor. Clark’s heart missed a beat and felt a cold stab in his stomach. Lois was now dangling with both her hands on Zod’s closed fist and her feet danced wildly to either find ground or kick herself free from death. Her eyes began to fade into a creeping pink along with the rest of her swelling face.

“Alright, stop!” Clark yelled.

Almost immediately, Zod lowered his arm and Lois’ feet fell flat on the floor, but he kept his hand on her neck. Lois let out soundly breaths and nearly staggered despite having a way of staying up.

With Zod’s free hand, he spoke into his com, “how long until the primary weapon fires?”

“In sixty seconds, the city will be obliterated,” Jax answered.

“In one minute,” Zod announced, “this city’s blood will be on your hands.”

Clark could’ve rolled his eyes. “I know. I heard him.”

Zod’s expression then turned frustrated and let out a quick exhale. Kal’s behavior was spontaneous, but this was prolonging much more than anticipated. “I’ve tried to be patient with you,” he said softly. He then raised his voice. “But your constant resistance has been irritating. I grow tired of this drivel, and you’ve dishonored your Kryptonian legacy. I will see to it that this city will be destroyed by your hand and how you were too cowardly and didn’t have the stomach to do what is necessary—”

Zod noticed that Clark had his arms folded and was no longer displaying an expression of fear or anger. It was much more calm. His head was slightly tilted, and the corner of his mouth was raised, almost as if he was . . . _amused?_ How in the name of Rao does he find this amusing?

“What is with that look, Kal?” Zod demanded.

Clark held his ground, unmoving and unchanged in expression. He had warned Ursa, and that would be the warning on their behalf. He had pleaded with them to stop all this and there was no indication they would cease. He would be alone after this again, but this was the only way. He angled his head back to its rightful place and let his arms fall to his sides. His face was no longer in a smirk. Whatever he was doing, he was about to act out something.

“I’m just waiting for you to finish,” Clark answered simply. “And I was hoping every one of you would show up around here. I wanted to make sure each and every one of you knew that you were about to make a mistake.”

“You lecture me on warfare, son of Jor-El?” Zod asked defensively.

“I’m not lecturing you,” Clark countered. “I’m past lecturing. You’re not the only one who was given a chance to stand down.”

Zod’s anger channeled through his arm muscles and he tightened his grip around Lois’ neck. “Take caution in where you stand, Kal,” he warned.

Clark’s glare grew. “This is your last chance, Zod. I don’t want to hurt anyone one of you. I know what you think you’re doing is right, but I can’t let you do this—”

“Let it be known, Kal,” Zod interrupted, “that _I_ am in command! And I am commanding you to submit.”

“Thirty seconds, sir,” came Jax-Ur’s voice on Zod’s wrist com.

The phantom drive’s pulse began to accelerate and grow louder.

* * *

The ship’s hull groaned out loud. Near its front, the noise was growing louder. A large hatch underneath started to open up itself, revealing a large circular rim that surrounded a massive void of blackness. Within the inner darkness, the groaning bellowed louder by the second. Soon, a blueish green light emitted and grew a brighter glare. A low, shuddering buzzing hum emitted that sang in chorus along with the loud groan.

Down below, countless bystanders began to uproar a melody of panic. Several were already running away while several others began to look up in fascination, wondering what would happen next. Authority figures began shouting frantic orders to vacate while they themselves joined the fleeing.

The large opening began cackling strings of electrical energy. The humming grew louder and particles in the shape of fiery bolts began to dispel.

* * *

Clark softly released an exhale within a closed mouth. Nothing was going to stop them.

And nothing was going to stop _him_.

Taking a look at the phantom engine, he released a small amount of breath and deeply focused within himself to find the innermost form of anger. There was kryptonite all around him; it would take a great amount of concentration to fight against the resistance.

“And _I,_ ” Clark said, feeling his eyes growing more and more heated, “am sending you where you belong.”

The redness took over, and Clark grunted releasing two soft parallel beams from his eyes right into the center of the large machine where the blue light was pulsating. The lasers met the phantom drive with a shower of sparks that soon turned thicker until it seemed as if flames were beginning to surface on it. A large booming sound emitted. What immediately followed was the noise of electricity crackling combined with a bellowing rumble.

It was working. Clark hoped. . .

“No!” Clark heard Zod scream.

An explosion roared.

The loud reverberation was then instantaneously swallowed by the sound of what sounded like boisterous low wind howling as if a tornado made its way into the room. It started low but grew louder. Where the blue light once stood, there was now a blackened sphere that materialized into existence. The sphere had no clear texture; it was all blurry with no precise image of anything but mixed colors that covered something that was unknown. Surrounding it was a light blue outline that softly blushed.

“General!” Jax’s voice sounded through the roaring echoes. “There’s been a disturbance in the phantom drive! Our weapons systems are offline! We’ve lost the countdown!”

Already, Clark could feel the air rushing past him. His hair flailed wildly, and he squeezed his eyelids together to combat the burn.

The singularity was working. He could feel it getting stronger. And stronger. . .

A split second followed, and one of Zod’s soldiers was lifted off from his feet. He never had enough time to make a facial reaction before he made a fast dizzying circular motion as he was thrust into the dark sphere. In the sphere, Clark could see that the soldier became part of the blurriness within and soon, nothing was left of him.

Three more Hand of Rao Kryptonians were lifted and flung into the sphere and gone into the Phantom Zone. Ursa and Nam shot looks of pure horror as they saw their comrades being pulled into a plane they had long feared. The gateway to the Phantom Zone was becoming more and more erratic. White jagged bolts flashed quickly around the outer rim of the circle and the sounds of crackling and rumbling grew louder and more earsplitting.

Lois was released from Zod’s grasp and fell back onto the floor, holding her tight gripped neck while scrambling away. The suction of the phantom drive blew air into her face that forced her to hold her arm in front of her. Having absolutely no clue to what’s going on and how terrifying that was, a lump formed within in her throat and she began letting out short gasps, both from the earlier pain and teary shock.

Zod wrapped his arms around one of the large pipes within the room. Through the air whirling around him and stinging his face, his eyes widened as more of his comrades were pulled into the void beyond their world.

Nam was beginning to be pulled in. In a moment of anxiety and desperation, he grabbed hold of Ursa, who by now, was beginning to launch herself for flight in the hopes of avoiding the tug of the singularity. His grip on her ankle weighed her down much to her shock. Nam was too close to the circle, which was growing more unstable by the second.

Soon, Nam was unwillingly pulled in midair while holding onto Ursa’s ankle. The Phantom Zone’s pull of Nam made him release his grip on Ursa and his body was tossed like a rag doll and thrown back into the circle.

Ursa had been too close as well now.

“Sir!” Jax’s voice panicked on Zod’s com. “Engines are cut off! We’re about to drop!”

Zod couldn’t care about those words as he saw with his slit-opened eyes from the Phantom Zone’s pull that Ursa was then lifted into the air. With one hand onto the pipe, he stretched out his hand towards her, hoping that it would somehow reach his wife.

For the first time in a long while, Zod saw that Ursa displayed a look of panic. She only had a second or two to gaze at her husband just right before she was tossed and disappeared along with the rest of the Hand of Rao Kryptonians that had long stood by him until the end.

Clark recoiled himself away from the Phantom Zone’s pull as far as his body would allow. He could still feel its massive suction even as a good number of yards divided him and the once stable engine.

With one glance, he saw that Zod was yelling in terror that his wife was now locked away in a world that would soon be beyond their reach. Clark pursed his lips in slight guilt. He was responsible. He kept saying in his head, _they were warned. It had to be done. It was either them or Metropolis._

Or Lois.

Lois was crawling away, her limbs jostling to give herself the leverage of escaping. Clark saw that the suction was growing and that Lois’ arms and legs were beginning to fail her. Her fingertips raked along the floor as her body was being pulled backward.

Clark eyed the distance between the Phantom Zone and Lois painstakingly. Even with his higher stamina, the Phantom Zone could easily pull a Kryptonian into its ghostly void. The distance was closing every second. He’d have to make a quick grab.

Drawing in a preparing breath, Clark dove quickly to where Lois was.

“Hang on!” he shouted over the loud noises that consumed everything.

He scooped her with his arms and immediately dove upward. Holding onto Lois, he veered themselves past all the holes that were created by him from earlier. Bits of shrapnel and debris were swept by alongside him as they were also beginning to be within the suction’s hungry reach. Clark squinted his eyes from the metallic rain and Lois buried her face into Clark’s chest.

* * *

General Sam Lane watched from satellite view. The ship was starting to act erratically.

“Did we get it?” Sam asked, leaning over to Calvin.

Calvin’s first response was a shaking head. “I don’t know.”

Sam silently already knew the answer. Whatever the hell that alien was talking about was apparently working. He disrupted the engines, triggering the ship’s failure. And according to him, they would be pulled into some sort of . . . gateway? What the hell was he thinking going along with this stupid plan again?

But that alien did promise to bring Lois back without harm and that she wouldn’t be among those who would’ve been pulled in. Lois was all that mattered. If anything happened to her, he’d swear to God . . .

* * *

Lois let out a cry as Clark braced himself. The ship’s entire axis was tilting at an angle, and it would only be a matter of time before it would fall into the city. Lois was still in his arms, and he had to make several sharp turns along the way.

The sound of the Phantom Zone was becoming dimmer along with the feeling of the air being pulled backward. The ship was losing its power, but that now meant the city would be left vulnerable from its incoming collision course. Now, all he had to do was speedily get himself and Lois out of the ship and find a way to redirect its fast descent.

Lois made quick shouts as her limited eyesight picked up visions of what looked like things were being tossed at her; the speed of him flying in a direction that only he understood was overwhelming.

“What the hell was _that_ thing?” Lois shouted over the commotion.

“It’s pulling them into another world,” Clark replied. Reading her face, he calmed, “hold on. I got you.”

Glancing back in whatever the hell direction the engine room was, thinking back on how those guys easily kicked his ass, she then shot a look at him and cried, “Yeah? Who’s got _you?”_

The ship tilted further; it was becoming more difficult to navigate properly through the many hallways that laid a difficulty of finding Lois. His x-ray vision was more helpful this time. He was not looking for a person, but now only flying upward. All he needed to do was to simply break through the ceiling again to escape. He could try to burst through using only his heavily enduring body unless that meant hurting Lois in the process. He’d have to be careful.

“I’m gonna need you to trust me on this,” Clark cried.

“Dare I ask?” Lois said worriedly.

“Just hold on,” Clark asserted.

Lois obeyed and Clark silently wished to himself that Lois wouldn’t see what he was about to do. It would hurt only slightly, but he would be more expendable compared to her. Bracing himself and hoping for the best, he released one arm around Lois and extended it ahead of him, clenching his hand into a hardened fist, preparing for the damage.

The metal that met his fist burst and what was left of the day’s sunlight seeped through. The sudden light irritated Clark’s eyes, but knew better to not tighten his grip around Lois. Returning his arm around her, he looked down and saw that the ship was now descending, and its crashing pathway was heading right into the center of the city.

Time was running out.

Lois was not going to like this part. “Hang on,” he said.

Lois let out a loud groan, knowing what would happen next and Clark dove downward and aimed himself at one of the taller buildings that were nearby. The _Daily Planet_ was too far away at this point.

He slowed himself down once he got to the nearest rooftop and crouched. He released his grip on Lois, who softly dropped onto the concrete surface, hoping that didn’t hurt her, but he was in a hurry.

“Stay here,” he told her before heading off again to the ship that was falling towards the city.

At long last being able to catch her breath, Lois looked back down to where he was going. Knowing that he had the capacity to lift a plane and carry it back, then surely, he’d have everything under control of putting _that_ thing anywhere.

Exhausted, she let out a loud exhale, falling on her back and threw her head back. She then realized she hit her head too hard on the concrete. “Ow,” she grumbled clumsily.

* * *

The Phantom Zone wouldn’t falter. Trying to fly away would be too risky without getting caught. Zod’s body was now lifted, his legs dangling at the circle that continued crackling. Even with the ship’s altered angle, his rage enabled him to hold onto the pipe with a firm and unshakable grip.

_Kal._

The son of Jor-El betrayed his own kind for these fragile creatures. Now, Krypton truly is gone. His Hand of Rao was no more. The Phantom Zone would’ve driven anyone mad. They are not dead, but they might as well be. This was an unforgivable act. Kal had to pay for this. If not in this life, then the next. If he would’ve found a way out of this . . . the things he had done to insubordination back on his home planet at Fort Rozz.

Somewhere through the thick sound of the Phantom Zone howling, a loud groan echoed. It was murky, but it was clear enough to be heard. Had the Earthians penetrated their defenses?

* * *

Stretching his muscles, Clark increased his speed, not taking his eye on the falling ship, nosediving faster with each second. He could hear the thousands of screams below. The panic that knew that at any second, death would take them all in one swift wave. The entire objective turned from prevention to counter. With the Phantom Drive still unstable combined with the ship’s magnitude, Metropolis wouldn’t be the only casualty from the inevitably colossal diameter.

Making his way past the ship’s involuntary trajectory, Clark soared and dove under the ship. The hull was at a severely slanted angle, and Clark had to align himself along with it.

Ground zero was just seconds away now.

Fortifying himself, Clark stretched his arms above him with his palms hardened, fingers outstretched and slightly clenched.

The ship hit his hands.

The inertia was harder than he had anticipated. The ship’s material gave the ship more mass than he realized. Clark felt fear and surprise empty the air in his lungs, sending a chill as the pressure of the mighty alien ship pushed him down to the ground below. Growling and feeling the veins at his temples press against his perspiring skin, he growled and stiffened his arms to lessen the velocity of the ship’s plummet. Soreness began to creep in his arms. There was no way he was going to let the ship continue is descent any further. It was fortunate that the tallest buildings in the New Troy district were not nearby, but the buildings that were below it were filled with people who scrambled to a safe distance, but they would be too late. Only one empty rooftop lied directly underneath his legs, closing.

The soreness intensified, but Clark fought the pain, feeling the veins in his arms screaming. The ship was slowing down, but it wasn’t enough. It was still too fast.

Feeling defeat rising, Clark yelled through gritted teeth unwilling to accept it. Fatigue forced his teeth to part and Clark let out a shrilling roar, feeling as if the muscles underneath his dampened temples were about burst open. The pain was growing, the distance was shrinking, and the velocity was declining—all factors that were expediently changing.

Clark felt the bottom of his boots touch ground.

_No!_

His feet sunk further through the concrete floor, and the ship wasn’t ready to stop. Any more distance and the ship would take down the building altogether.

Gritting his teeth once more and letting another scream, Clark lifted his arms, flexing his already sore muscles and looked at the large body of water that belonged to the Atlantic Ocean along the harbor. It was empty from what his eyesight picked up. No civilians. That was all he needed.

Bending his knees, gathering up one last pack of energy that remained in his entire body, he raised his upper body and hardened his numbing arms once more. He leveraged his upper arms and thrust the ship right into the direction where the ocean was.

The ship hurled far away from him fast. Heat had completely consumed Clark’s body. Relief soon after smothered him as he felt his lungs restore themselves with quick drawing gasps in and out of his body. Lightheadedness was creeping up on him. He felt it best that he drop onto his knees. The drop nearly made him stumble, but his arms barely caught himself. Feeling the sweat dripping down the ridge of his nose, his inhalations felt more relaxed with more drawing breaths.

It was over.

* * *

Zod looked all around him, unwilling to give in to whatever was happening to his once proud safe haven for years from the outside. All around him was everything he had fought so hard for all those years staying alive to be a refugee. He then felt as if all the gravity within had gone, leading his body feeling lighter than ever, even with the feeling of the Phantom Zone continuing to drag him into its deadly vortex . . .

* * *

Jax-Ur tried again. There was nothing. The consoles were not responding, and the consoles were cutting in and out of their original displays. The monitors flashed continuously without any signs of stopping. He danced his head all around him. He had been alone. The only one left at the consoles while everyone else had gone to look for Kal. The disruption of the engine room was his worst fear of all. The only thing that would’ve kept them afloat, and now they were no doubt suffering a fate he’d rather not think.

He had committed himself because he believed in Zod’s ideology. Krypton’s councilmen’s hesitation was going to get them killed. He knew in his heart that they had to take action. In this case, he had hoped that launching a destructive weapon would’ve been unnecessary. If those people had to die, the rest of the planet would have to know that there were forces out there they couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Jax’s heart sank at the mere thought of the Phantom Zone. It would be an unbearable fate to be a victim of. Now that their ship was bound to take a dive into the city they gave an ultimatum, it seemed as if there were two alternatives—death by the impact or the Phantom Zone.

The mere thought of the Phantom Zone sent a shudder. A fate that he wouldn’t wish on anyone or himself. No time passing and possibly no way of escape would be excruciating . . .

The kryptonite onboard the ship would make this easier. Looking at the monitor that showed him that the ship was closing in on the large blue body of water below him, he made a silent prayer to Rao. Jax closed his eyes and waited for death’s instant to spare him.

* * *

A loud crash of water made Clark snap his attention to where the ship was hurled. After the watery explosion subsided, the ship bobbed like a cork. Only for about a minute at least. Raging bubbles then surrounded it like an outline heralding its foundering into the oceanic depths below. Slowly descending, the ship made a distant low metallic groaning sound that reached Clark’s sensitive ears. He was very thankful that he didn’t toss it with most of his energy already drained, otherwise it would’ve raised a tsunami that would’ve devastated the city. Larger than normal waves were making their way back to the coastline, but only made watery crashes against the seawall.

He felt his suit let the salving cool air touch him and his body felt on the way to recover. He ducked his head, feeling the last bit of perspiration cascade down his face.

Nearby him, an onlooker, who had his eyes and mouth wide open stared at him.

“Dude!” he exclaimed in a high-pitched mesmerizing voice.

The sound nearly startled Clark, who almost fell on his stomach.

“How’d you do that?”

Clark glanced back with an exhausted and breathless chuckle. “I work out.”


	15. Chapter 15

From above, Lois peeked from the rooftop where she rested. The sun, by now, was setting, giving Metropolis a purple and orange light that engulfed the entire city. She kept her eye on the building where Kal rested himself ever since the ship was tossed into the ocean. It was too far away to make out any kind of people that may or may not have been on there.

 _That was quite a ride,_ she thought to herself.

There were too many times for her to keep track of her getting herself into situations, but none were ever this life-threatening. At least to this extent. This kind of experience would definitely be one for the books. From what she could see, military choppers continued circling around the area where the alien ship was last seen. Bubbles and erratic patterns of something below the water’s surface continued showing. News choppers could only watch from a certain distance, covering the incident with their limited sights delivering their cover. Lois grumbled that she wasn’t there.

Without thinking any more about it, she reached into her pocket, equipping her cellphone. Punching the contact number for her father, she heard a familiar voice.

“Ms. Lane.”

She nearly dropped her phone. She snapped her attention and saw that it was Kal, hovering in the air slowly approaching her. From what she could gather, Kal took quite a beating. There were numerous bruises on his face and one of his eyes was suffering a swollen purple and yellow swelling. His hair was dampened with heavy sweat that cooled off the heat of taking on those fanatics.

“Lois!”

Lois almost dropped her phone again. _Damn._ Too many things were happening at once.

“Hello?” she exclaimed without thinking, bringing the phone up to her face.

On the other end, Sam let out a moaning sigh. “Thank God. Are you okay, honey?”

Still panting from everything that was crashing down on her, she answered, “yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“What happened? Where are you?”

Looking around her, “I’m uh . . . I’m on a building. . . . I think. There was a, um, the alien. The flying one. The _blue_ fighting one—sorry—took out their engine. There was this large vortex thing that sucked everyone in and . . .” She swiveled her head around, trying to make sense out of it while muttering “Oh, God. I sound high.”

“Honey, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“Right. Anyway, he then threw the ship right into the ocean. They’re all gone. It’s over.”

On the other end, Sam remained silent for a moment to his reflections. The alien ship was now gone, and Zod was inevitably no longer a threat. But this other alien was still concerning. He may have helped out and got his daughter out of there, but he was still an alien that had no business being here. This “Kal-El” would have to answer for his actions even if they were noble. He was an alien; he’d have to be debriefed about this happening. Convincing him wouldn’t be easy. Even a pursuit would be near impossible.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Have you seen the blue-suited man? Do you know where he went?”

“Yeah, he’s right here. He just flew up here.”

A moment of silence followed, and Sam said, “can you put him on please?”

Lois shot a look at Clark, who furrowed his eyebrows. She held out her phone. “You heard that?”

Nodding, Clark took the phone. “General?”

“So, your plan worked,” Sam said.

“Yes, sir,” he responded humbly. “They’ve been sucked through the Phantom Zone.”

“And through this so-called ‘ _Phantom Zone’,_ you’re certain they can’t get out of that?”

“As far as I’m concerned, General.”

Sam then looked at the monitor that overlooked the entire precinct of New Troy. There was an object that was detected with the same kind of signatures as the one called “Kal”, which flew over to one building. Sam tapped several keys on the console and a heads-up window appeared. In it was an issued order that was coded. The interface than flashed a red dot to where Kal was supposedly located. The other icons that signified all other choppers and submarine out on the coast were now focused on Kal’s location.

“Can you confirm that you are still in the city?” Sam asked.

Clark’s face paled. He knew where that question was going to lead to. It wasn’t over. Not yet. Now, _they_ want him. His appearance still hasn’t been cleared. There was a price to pay for even doing a good deed. If he wanted to continue, he’d have to find a way to coexist. He kept repeating to himself that all Sam wanted out of all this was just to talk.

“Yes, sir,” Clark answered.

There was no answer. Clark waited for a couple of seconds, but there was still nothing. His stomach was beginning to churn. This was way too long of a delay.

“General?” Clark said.

Nothing.

A low rumbling sound happened. The familiar sound of a helicopter arose again. The whirling growl sounded louder than usual as if there was more than one. Following the noise, Clark saw that every chopper that helped take down Zod’s ship was now making their way to his location. So many to count were approaching him, all producing an uneasy sensation.

Anxiety gripped him. It was the same feeling when several people approached him after the Boeing incident. That same uncomfortable impression of so many people staring at him, walking towards him, demanding answers from him because of who he was.

Clark realized what this was. “You want to bring me in.”

“You’re going to have to come down with us,” Sam responded. “We have to debrief you about everything.”

The choppers were still making their approach. Clark’s inspection picked up their mounted weapons, sending a negative sense of antagonism.

Clark hesitatingly spoke back into the phone. “I’m sorry, General. Not today.”

Sam wrinkled his lips tightly. “You _will_ submit yourself, do you understand me? If you won’t turn yourself in, we’re going to have to take you in by force.”

“So, now you’re pursuing me,” Clark deduced. “After all I’ve done.”

“Why are you here?” Sam demanded.

“Excuse me?”

Sam repeated himself slowly and sternly, “why are you here?”

“I told you,” Clark simply answered. “I’m here to help. Just like you.”

“Need I remind you that you’re not even _from_ here. Your own kind tried to kill us today, and you won’t even cooperate. You expect us to just let you wander free after that?”

“My own kind was stopped because of what _we_ did today, General. Had it not been for me, your daughter would’ve been killed.”

“Then answer me!” Sam shouted. “What is it that you want from us? You said you came here to help. But what is it that you want from us?”

Clark took a sigh. “I want to help because of what I can do. You saw what I can do, General. You’ve looked at the tapes, you saw how I can lift a truck.”

“And I saw what else your own kind can do. Shoot lasers. Level buildings. Collateral damage.”

Clark’s tone darkened. “This is beginning to sound like an interrogation. I’m not comfortable the way this conversation’s going.”

“If you hang up,” Sam warned. “You will be an enemy of the United States Army.”

Clark looked into Lois’ eyes. He had trusted her since the moment he worked with her, and he was beyond certain that

The choppers were getting closer and closer. At any second, they would treat with him with hostility, no doubt.

In a panic, Clark handed the phone back to Lois, who had a worried expression.

“What’d he say?” Lois asked.

Clark said hastily, “I need you to tell them that I did everything I could to make sure that nobody was hurt today.”

“Wait, where are you going?” she said.

“I didn’t ask for surrendering myself. This is starting to look like an arrest.”

Lois then released a disbelieving scoff. “Speak for yourself,” she argued. “You just saved my ass.”

Clark replied with a winking smile that would’ve made Lois proud. Immediately afterward, he launched himself in the air with a sonic boom, leaving behind a minor shock wave that blew wind in Lois’ face.

* * *

Sam’s muscles tightened in anger; he swore that he almost slammed his hand on the console top. The speed of Kal was undeniably incredible. The calculations of Kal’s quickness was beyond any other fighter jet in the entire military arsenal’s records.

Tensing his brows, Sam pressed the headset against his ear, so he’d be heard loud and clear. “You track him and find out where he’s going. And _don’t lose him._ ”

“Roger,” the pilot answered, knowing fully well that General Lane would’ve had their ranks for breakfast if they didn’t deliver their results.

* * *

In less than a minute time, the choppers drew themselves close enough to where their wind blowing blades scraped alongside her skin, sending more goosebumps along with the already chilly afternoon temperature. Shielding her face from the rapid breeze, she squinted to catch one of the choppers landing just several yards away from her. Within the interior, one soldier lowered himself and made a soft landing out of the chopper with an armed assault rifle. Lois’ sight of it was unnerving, but it was understandable. Aliens did just attack the city.

“Ma’am!” the soldier cried out through the chopper’s blades.

Lois nearly rolled her eyes. She really hated being called that other than the other dreaded title: “lady”.

“Did you see where he was flying?” he asked.

On one hand, Lois was irritated that they wanted his location and disregarding the fact that he just saved all their lives, including the daughter of their superior.

“I don’t know,” Lois answered. And that was the truth. “He just took off in that direction,” she said, aiming a finger in the direction where she did in fact last see him, knowing well enough that their chances of catching him were very slim. She could’ve smiled at that but knew better.

* * *

Clark steered himself from New Troy and soon, Metropolis itself was becoming a murky blur. He knew he wasn’t going as fast as he intended, but he blamed the soreness from the earlier crisis. It was, however, reassuring that he was plenty sure he was still faster than all those military aircraft that was no doubt onto him. He knew they wouldn’t let him go just as easy. He was an alien. This all put a slight smile on his face. It was mischievous, but he felt proud of himself. He saved people and the entire world all in one day. It wasn’t easy, but it happened. Maybe this entire legacy of the House of El wasn’t so bad to maintain after all.

It was, however, disheartening knowing what he had to do against Zod and his radicals. He remembered seeing the horror of his wife being pulled into a world with no beginning or end. It wasn’t murder, he kept repeating to himself. Zod did say that it acted as a prison sentence back on Krypton, so Clark’s actions would be in accordance.

* * *

Jonathan punched Clark’s number after so many tries he lost count. It seemed pointless to leave a voicemail or a text. Clark wasn’t the type to just simply ignore a missed call that involved a voicemail or text. Something was wrong. Ever since he and Martha caught the news of the ship’s crash into the Metropolis Atlantic seaside, Jonathan couldn’t leave his phone alone. Martha refused to leave her husband’s side agonizingly waiting for her son’s voice that wasn’t an automated message.

Tensions rose in the household, and pants and exasperated sighs echoed.

“Pick up, Clark, pick up,” Jonathan whispered in a maddening mantra.

Frustrating minutes followed and a low whoosh sounded. On instinct, Jonathan and Martha snapped their heads up and gazed out onto the front lawn, which was visible through their screen door. Naturally, this was to be ignored as it wasn’t uncommon for a plane to fly over them. This was different. Unlike the typical sounds of a plane, the booming loudened quicker. This was too fast for a plane, which only meant one thing.

Jonathan and Martha bolted out through the front door porch danced down the steps. Looking upward, they could see one tiny spec heading towards them. Relief smothered them knowing that this was the signal of their son.

Seconds proceeded and the spec grew and morphed into the shape of a man flying with his arms outward, his cape flapping wildly.

Clark gradually dropped his speed as well as his altitude. He adjusted himself to where he could meet with his parents who were only a couple of yards away, sending a slight breeze from that slower fly.

Martha threw her arms around her son. Her hug was so rough, it felt as if it was a tackle. So much so that even Clark could feel her inferior pressure against his body.

“Thank God,” she whispered to herself. “Honey, are you okay? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Your father kept calling you.”

“Martha,” Jonathan calmed.

“I’m okay, Ma,” Clark assured. “I’m okay. Everything is okay. It’s over.”

Martha released her grasp and looked at her son. “Oh, God. Honey, your eye. What the hell happened to you?”

Clark’s thoughts betrayed him to find the proper answer for that. “I, uh . . . I got into a fight.”

“Don’t ever go dark on us again, understand?”

Completely understanding his mother’s state of mind, Clark nodded. “Okay,” he said calmly.

Jonathan approached his family and took notice to Clark’s outfit. “Let me see that.”

Breaking away from Martha’s hug, Clark stood proudly with his cape swaying in a barely noticeable breeze. Jonathan and Martha marveled at this sight. The suit was a shining blue made of a fabric they’ve never seen before. They’ve seen it before but never worn. They had assumed it was another suit that his parents were meant to wear if they were alive today. Seeing Clark wear it felt more natural and more meaningful. If he was a representative of that House, then it would make sense for him to bear it.

Clark broke their gaze. “Like it? Think it’s too blue?”

“No,” they answered simultaneously in the exact same simple tone.

“So, what happened?” Jonathan asked.

Clark spent at least five minutes recapping. He informed them about his potential newfound friendship with Lois, his first day as a reporter, and hesitantly—the entire ordeal with Zod. He painstakingly left out the bit where he felt sympathetic towards Zod. Sending him to the Phantom Zone was the only way to stop him, and it wasn’t going to be any easier for him.

“Clark,” Jonathan interrupted. His expression implied that Clark may have done something wrong. “Are they after you?”

Clark sighed. For all intents and purposes, he was a fugitive regardless of his deeds. “Yeah,” he answered modestly. “But it's not like they were going to let me go anyway. They were planning on taking me in the minute Zod was eliminated.”

“Listen, Clark,” Jonathan said, his head slightly hanging. We're very proud of you, and you are right. Had it not been for you, we wouldn’t be here. You saved a lot of lives today. But running away from the authorities is irresponsible.”

Clark pursed his lips in regret. He heavily agreed with that statement, but he had enough for one day. He had started his first day at work, among more things that would drain anybody by the end of the day. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. The general—he said I was like them. He was right. Then he said he had to debrief me.” He scoffed. “After everything that happened today, I just had to get away.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” Jonathan said. “But . . .,”

Jonathan's words were blocked out by a mysterious noise. Clark darted his eyes all around him as his ears picked up a large rumble. That didn’t sound like a jet plane that he had become accustomed to hearing over the years. It was definitely not a military aircraft either. No way they could’ve caught onto him that fast. That sounded like . . .

Clark’s eyes widened and his brows tensed.

He swiveled his head around aggressively. Jonathan's talking ceased. He could sense that something was amiss. “What is it?” he asked.

Clark began to breathe loudly. There was no way. Everyone was sucked in. He was sure. He saw it happen. He turned around and saw him as the color and warmth faded from his face.

* * *

The shape of a humanoid shape was hurling towards him fast.

“Run!” Clark yelled, startling his parents. “Get out of here!”

Zod roared and held out a hard clenched fist aimed in Clark's direction. Veins were poking through his wet and dampened ocean-soaked forehead.

To Jonathan and Martha’s surprise, Clark launched himself and sped to the side and steered away. He continued and sensed that Zod was hot on his tail.

“Traitorous murderer!” Zod bellowed, his fury building.

A rush of energy flowed through him even as he let his anger guide him. The image of his wife’s last moments kept appearing. His eyes grew warm and soon turned white-searing. Fighting it and no longer caring about his physical condition, he never took his eyes off his now worst enemy. There was no more reasoning. The Son of Jor-El had to pay, even if that included death.

Clark felt a shot of pain shoot through his back between his shoulder blades. It forced a yell to escape from his lips. That felt way too painful to be a punch. This was more sharp. More . . . hot.

Feeling the rush of shock, Zod slowed down. So, this was a new enhancement that was yet to be discovered. Anger. That was the key.

Clark winced at this newfound pain. So, Zod finally figured out how to use that technique. He was going to have be extra careful. Keeping his course steady, he continued moving ignoring the white-hot sensation that throbbed on his back.

Realizing Kal was in pain and knowing that another hit would be more devastating, Zod slowed himself down. “Do you think you can run forever? Wherever you go, I vow you will be hunted.”

Clark kept moving but Zod's words couldn’t be denied. They were cursed with invulnerability. There was no Phantom Zone to draw either of them in, leaving them to be the strongest beings ever known. Disregarding his minor injury, he turned himself slowly around with a leering scowl. Zod was suspended in midair with his eyes narrowed downward into the same glare. Neither felt the emotion of fear as their eyes locked. Clark felt far more comfortable facing an enemy far out here than any other place, having a home-field advantage. They weren’t onboard a foreign ship with countless corridors and rooms. This was in an open field he had known his whole life in Smallville. No help this time. No backup.

“Alright then, General,” Clark said. “You’ve got me.”

“I made a mistake trusting you,” Zod growled deeply.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? How the hell did you get out of there? I threw that thing in the ocean.”

“I held on as tight as I could,” his voice began to waver from the oncoming despair. “Ursa . . . her face. That was the same kind of fear I’ve seen in millions of eyes on that day. The day Krypton saw its last sunset.

“All because you’ve been living your life. On a _farm?_ You could’ve been far greater. You are a man from a highly regarded family. And you have _disgraced_ it.”

“And you?” Clark shot back. “You don’t want to protect anything. This is all about control for you, isn’t it?”

“What I’ve

Clark braced himself to where his chest was stiffened. He knew what was coming next. “Then show me what you’ve got.”

Zod roared and charged with his fingers outstretched.

Clark tightened himself and was ready for impact. Zod’s built force knocked Clark several yards while having his hands grabbing hold of him. Clark returned with hands on Zod’s shoulders hoping that’d slow him down.

Instead, Zod swung Clark around and let go. While Clark was swirling, losing his traction, Zod charged and landed a punch at Clark’s face. Clark was thrown back, but Zod was ready for another. Another hit, this time punched downward.

Fighting the force and the pain, Clark focused intensely and shot heat vision beams. The beams squarely hit Zod in the stomach, creating dark red scorches through his armor. Zod yelled, letting his arms flail.

Taking the time, Clark charged back and landed an uppercut into the same area where he had burned him. Zod let out a gasp as air was suddenly sapped away from him and was sent upward in a spiraling ascension.

Clark followed and tried to land another blow.

Zod recovered and caught Clark’s fist with his hand, pushing it away. Leaving his adversary vulnerable, Zod violently leaned his head and struck Clark’s head.

Recoiling, Clark was unable to detect the next move.

Zod bent his arm, cocking his elbow. Dashing forward, Zod then thumped Clark in the stomach.

Clark let out a yelp, feeling his lungs trying to find air to obtain. Caught off guard, Clark spun his head around to find his now unseen opponent. A frightening chill urged him to look harder—

An arm swung itself from behind and wrapped around Clark’s neck. Resisting with his hands, he could hear Zod’s angry panting near his ear.

“Pathetic!” Zod hissed through his teeth. “Weak man beneath notice. You’ve murdered my troops. My _wife!_ We were the last, do you hear me?”

Straining, Clark reached behind him until his back was sore. Zod wasn’t showing any signs of restraining his grip.

“You would’ve murdered _millions,”_ Clark strained, raising an arm and slammed his elbow backward into Zod’s stomach.

Zod snarled a pained grunt, lessening his grasp. Clark thrashed by swinging, and Zod was forced away. Seeing that he wasn’t too far away, Clark extended a leg which met Zod’s face.

Clark then lunged himself with both arms extended. Zod threw his body back as Clark caught him in a forceful tackle. Angling downward, Clark resisted the wind's blow in his eyes. The two hit the earth with a booming subtle wave, and Clark held a solid grasp on Zod’s shoulder pinning him. With his other hand, he balled it into a fist and landed a series of built up stiff-knuckled punches against Zod’s cheek. Rage egged him to go on and not stop. Zod couldn’t be reasoned with. He needed to be stopped one way or the other.

Clark’s streak was broken when his fist landed into the palm of Zod’s desperate grab.

Swiftly lifting his knee, Zod struck Clark in the stomach. Taking the opportunity while his opponent was caught off guard, Zod reached up and grabbed Clark by the shoulders with both hands. Lifting himself further, Zod threw Clark off of him and onto the side on his back.

As Zod found ground, Clark spun around, using the maneuver to pick himself up. Both men stood up on their feet, displaying stances that told each other they were nowhere near ready to give up. They lightly panted with sweat beginning to seep through their foreheads showing that their inundating strength was beginning to tire. Tension between the two grew, both hypersensitive to counter any kind of attack they would be willing to send at one another.

Baring his teeth, Zod’s eyes glowed red and morphed quickly into a white-hot aura. Reacting fast enough, Clark returned his own heat vision ray, which collided into Zod’s creating a sparkling and crackling shrill that overpowered the high pitched hum of lasers. The sphere in the middle of their crossfire was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

The men grunted and tensed their facial muscles until they could feel veins pushing against their stark, sweat-drenched temples.

Clark could feel Zod’s fury channeling through the beams that were being projected. It was about the same amount of concentration he had felt from earlier. There was a massive force behind it that would deliver a great deal of pain to whoever made contact with it. With his years of experience and dedicated knowledge of how to control his own heat vision, Clark slightly relaxed himself and concentrated more on his focused anger. Any kind of recklessness would end up him giving Zod the advantage.

None of them was gaining an advantage. While the sphere was now a ball of pure heat that would be sure to set any nearby life ablaze, it was fluctuating back and forth in obscure jerks like a tug o’ war.

* * *

The cold rush of panic in Jonathan compelled him to shove the master bedroom door open. Breathing heavily, his eyes danced around the room. He couldn’t waste a second. That alien was after his son.

His eyes found the beretta A303 shotgun that was leaned up against the side of the window that overlooked their entire front yard. Feeling the brief moment of reprieve relax him, he bolted forward and grabbed it. Hastily, he then popped open the nearby drawer. Luckily, the shells that he had held onto for so long were still in there, unused and ready to be utilized. His fingers fidgeted with the latch and carefully but quickly inserted the shells.

Jonathan’s peripheral vision picked up that Martha burst into the room and stopped where she was.

“Do you really think that’s going to help?” she asked in agitation.

Jonathan let out a frustrated exhale. His inner answer was a most definite ‘no’ but sitting and waiting was an alternative he couldn’t afford. Even if this type of weaponry was completely useless against someone without vulnerability, fighting to save his son’s life was all that mattered to him.

“I don’t know,” his answer came to be as he pumped the forend, cocking the firearm. “But we can’t sit here.”

* * *

The heat was growing unbearably intense. The crackling grew louder as thicker dissipating sparks began to pour from its reddening source. Neither of the two was showing signs of fatigue. If one of them were to slow down, the heat would annihilate the other. Or both.

Their straining and grunting grew louder, and they could feel the strength of their beams growing stronger by the second. More perspiration drew from their foreheads, and wind began to blow against them.

The glowing hot sphere began to shake more violently. As it turned more unstable by the second, their eyes widened upon their notice.

Their concentration had broken.

Both beams from their eyes vanished, leaving the ball where it stayed. With nothing left powering one area, the ball expelled in a massive explosion of unbearably hot air. Both men were thrown off their balances and sent back several yards, skidding along the blades of grass.

Clark winced from the burning sensation that affected his face. His eyes stung from the overly hot air that surrounded him. Between him and Zod lied a large grassless diameter of destroyed and exposed dirt, leaving several scorches and blackness.

Zod groaned. He never imagined that this kind of raw power would have a recoil. It was powerful, though. With this kind of power, what he could do with it . . . He stared back at Clark, who was still recovering from the blast. No way he was ever going to let him have time to have another way of escape. He picked up speed and flew at Clark’s direction.

Clark only caught a half-a-second glimpse of Zod charging at him before being picked up in a traumatic force that almost robbed the air out of his lungs.

As his eyesight regained sharpness, Clark saw that he was leaving the ground and ascending high up at a frighteningly fast progress. His arms were locked at his sides while Zod jammed his arms around him.

Clark thrashed around, but Zod was too firm to falter his grip. There was a sudden jerk and he stopped rising. Zod rotated while holding onto Clark and released one arm around him, spinning him. Clark rolled and stopped, facing Zod, who had already reached back with a fist and hurled a strike against his face.

Dazed and stung by the hit, Clark fell downward, his back facing the earth, three-hundred feet away.

Zod dove after Clark, his speed outmatching him. He primed another fist just right as he was about to make contact with Clark and threw another blow in the face.

With each punch, Clark’s eyesight was becoming less lucid and losing its sharpness. He had to break free otherwise he’d be finished.

Quickly thinking, Clark barrel rolled out of Zod’s way, allowing him to throw a fist at nothing. Clark then launched himself forward with one arm extended into a balled fist that aimed right at Zod.

Somehow, Zod caught onto this and threw himself backward and away. Clark tried another punch, but Zod dodged it again, propelling himself in the opposite direction.

Another thrown punch, and Zod gripped Clark’s balled hand and pushed it back, making Clark vulnerable. Swiftly, Zod hurled a punch into Clark’s stomach. Clark groaned loudly and Zod finished the attack with a devastating side sweep of an elbow across Clark’s chin.

Clark spiraled violently in a soft descent. Enduring the soreness, he quickly regained control and sensed that Zod was still flying towards him. Fighting Zod was challenging enough. He was showing no signs of wearing down and Clark was getting more and more tired. Soon, there would be no strength left while Zod was only getting started. Then again, he couldn’t just let this go on. Zod had to be stopped one way or another. If he was the only one who could stop him, then quitting was not an option.

Zod zoomed in fast. Clark could detect the anger building in that velocity. Tensing and releasing the stress in his body, Clark studied him. He calculated his enemy’s speed carefully and concocted a quick plan.

Amidst his assault, Zod reached way back with a balled fist, clenching his fingers until his knuckles whitened. That kind of punch could be fatal if Clark wasn’t careful enough.

Taking in a deep breath and relaxing himself to know what to do, Clark narrowed his brows, while balling his fists, flexing his arms for more momentum.

When Zod got close enough, Clark gathered all the energy in his body to sidestep away from Zod’s path just a couple of inches away from while Zod swung at nothing but air, his energy now wasted.

Quickly, Clark gripped the front of Zod’s armor, holding him firmly in place with no chance of avoidance or escape. With his other arm filled with bided energy, he reached back and hurled a strike against Zod’s chin. Zod was sent far away from him so fast, he quickly shrunk into a spec that Clark could see in the distance.

Gathering himself, Clark charged and launching himself in the same direction. He soared expediently; his attack had only begun. As he drew nearer, he could make out that Zod was still being flung away from him, rolling with his arms and legs helplessly flailing against the wind.

Building another amount of energy, Clark reached back another imminent punch and struck Zod in the same exact location on his face. Another blow continued Zod’s aerial tumbling that went for miles. Clark followed and repeated the same pattern of striking his enemy as hard as needed. So far, it didn’t seem that Zod was able to recover and try a counterattack. Clark continued and it seemed like they were flying far, far away.

* * *

Jonathan shoved the front porch door open with his A303 shotgun in hand. Martha hastily followed her husband who was already past the porch steps and out into the open field. His head swiveled all around him, scanning the area for any signs for Clark’s whereabouts. Jonathan’s heart picked up speed as there was no trace where any of the two men had gone. From his last observation, they had flown so fast that a general direction would no doubt be useless.

Martha reluctantly joined the search and got herself out onto the large grassy field, still radiant from the sunny day that had lasted all throughout the day. The afternoon’s daylight would soon begin to creep its way into the sunset period, so it wouldn’t at least be hard to spot them up in the sky if they ever showed themselves.

“Come on, come on . . .,” Jonathan muttered to himself, not taking his eyes above him.

A boom sounded.

Startled, Jonathan turned with his shotgun now tighter in his grasp. Something had fallen on the ground, producing a ripple of dust that arose in a thick curtain. Dispelling, the cloud revealed the object that had fallen. It was humanoid shaped and posed as if in a fetal position with the arms and legs slightly sprawled.

Jonathan’s heart missed a beat. He recognized that this person was wearing a dirtied but red cape. “Clark!” he panicked, running towards his son, who only responded with a dazed groan.

That earlier strategy didn’t go as planned. Zod had caught onto his mile-long punches and went for a counterstrike. Opening his eyes to find that his sight was still adjusting to his surroundings, he abruptly raised himself upward, his head twirling around. His parents shouldn’t be anywhere near here.

“You alright? Where is he?” Jonathan asked directly.

“Get out of here!” Clark ordered. “Get Ma and stay inside the house!”

Before anything else could be said, Clark’s eye spotted Zod coming in for another attack, presumably to finish him off.

Clark made a swift motion by spinning around, allowing himself to get back up and face his incoming enemy.

Jonathan tried approaching him. “Son,” he said.

“Go now!” Clark stressed as he launched himself as fast as he could.

Clark didn’t make an attempt to acknowledge where exactly he was. His recklessness caused a shockwave that happened to be too close to Jonathan.

Jonathan recoiled and lost his balance from the invisible force that ejected itself from where Clark once was. Martha rushed over to him while keeping an eye on her son, who was already now way high up for her to reach out to him.

Clark held his arms out with his palms opened, ready for Zod once more. This had to end soon; Zod is too close to his homestead.

Zod lifted his body upward until he his chest was facing Clark with one arm reaching back, readying a punch. Clark braced his body, increasing his speed, hoping to endure the hit with little damage as much as possible. Squeezing his eyes shut while hearing Zod’s growl reaching a crescendo, he tightened himself.

The two unstoppable Kryptonians collided. A massive shockwave expanded from their clash. Zod was able to make the bigger impact and knocked Clark, but only a few meters in the opposite direction.

Clark’s hand then reached around and grabbed Zod’s shoulder, using him as leverage. Channeling his anger through his strength, Clark swung Zod around and charged toward the ground, hoping to drive him into the Earth and knock him out with that amount of trauma. Roaring angrily, Zod thrashed around trying to get free, but Clark was far more familiar with him now, unwilling to let any of his muscles relax for anything else.

The two struck the earth, and Zod remained beneath Clark, who saw that his adversary was only dazed. Clark let out a quick exasperated sigh, seeing how persistent this guy was.

With no other alternative in mind, Clark quickly swung around until he got behind Zod. He then wrapped a tight arm around his throat, locking it tight while slightly hoisting him up. This prompted Zod to overcome his daze and held his arms up to grasp against Clark’s arm. Zod’s strength failed him. So much energy in him was already used and Clark was far dedicated to having this kind of strength for so many years. Having this kind of enhancement wasn’t something to be taken for granted.

Defeat was only a breath away for Zod, until his impaired eyes found two Earthians that were not too far away at all. A male and a female. Both were wearing faces of terror at the sight of him. The same kind of fear he saw on the face of his wife before she was pulled away into the obscure beyond of the Phantom Zone.

“Your parents,” Zod growled through what air he could squeeze through his throat. “I’ve already lost my family today, Kal. Now, you lose _yours.”_

Zod’s eyes glowed red and morphed into a blinding white. Two red beams of unimaginable heat shot through his reddening sockets.

Agitating adrenaline shot through Clark, urging him to tighten his arm around Zod, who hardened himself into place. The red beams missed Jonathan and Martha, but only a couple of yards away. The red beams didn’t diminish and Zod tried to adjust his head to where he would be directly facing his targets. He felt the heat grow hotter in his sockets. Fighting Clark’s arm around his neck, he narrowed his brows to sharpen his perspective.

Jonathan’s grip on his shotgun was lost and he tumbled backward along with Martha, who formed an X above herself for cover. Shrieking, they were now off their feet and backing away from the two deadly beams that left blackened lines in the earth with smoke steadily rising. They withdrew further until their backs made contact with the wooden exterior wall of the barn.

With widened horror-stricken eyes, Clark strained to keep his hold on Zod, who was still progressing his heat vision beams with no sign of ceasing. With each passing second, they were growing nearer to the Kents, who huddled closer together in a tight embrace, panic consuming their faces.

“Stop this!” Clark yelled, trying harder to turn Zod’s head.

Zod bared his teeth, his jaws grinding hard against each other. “Never,” he seethed.

The beams edged closer.

Jonathan and Martha let out yells. The beams were now inches away, sending out a fiery sensation that sent dread through them. From Clark’s point of view, the beams were too close that it seemed like they were already touching them. It was too hard to tell.

Clark hardened his arm and knuckles. Tensing his body for flight, he found that he was unable to launch Zod away as if someone from above was keeping him grounded. Zod was too stubborn to be lifted.

“Do what I did, Kal,” Zod uttered in a deathly dark tone. “Do the only option that is necessary.”

“Stop!” Clark begged, struggling harder to break through Zod’s strength.

Feeling the same kind of strength that came to him when lifting Zod’s ship, Clark’s desperation coursed through his muscles and he felt that his grip was beginning to make a difference. He squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his body at a barely noticeable tempo. Letting out a loud cry, Clark turned harder, and it seemed that Zod’s head was turning.

The beams vanished. The high-pitched hum died to nothingness, leaving behind only the sound of open field ambiance in addition to the ground that had been sizzling. All had gone silent in a heartbeat. Letting out a gasp of surprise, Clark opened his eyes, alleviating his grip. Zod didn’t feel as vigorous now; he felt much more loose than ever. As Clark’s arm loosened carefully, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate trick to free himself. If not, he was thankful that at least he had him in a choking headlock until he ran out of breath. Zod’s head tilted to one side with no effort. His arms fell to his sides, his fingers curling in themselves in a natural state.

Shifting himself, Clark completely released Zod, who immediately fell flat on the ground. Clark turned around to face the General of the Hand of Rao and saw that his eyelids were barely parted into tiny slits, still glowing from the dying heat that once filled them.

Panting, Clark adjusted his eyes to x-ray vision. From what he saw, Zod’s organs had completely shut down. No pulse, no heartbeat. A still skeleton with nonfunctioning organs. As he scanned more, Clark did detect something amiss around the head area, particularly around the neck area. On the spinal cord’s cervical vertebrae, just two inches away from the skull was a fracture. One of the vertebrae had been out of place.

Clark’s heart began to race from what he was seeing. His eyes scanned around Zod’s body. Nothing was detected. Returning to his normal vision, he looked once again at Zod’s face, who had the same barely open-eyed blank expression.

Clark’s eyes widened. There was no way this was happening. He did exactly what Zod wanted. Zod’s last words echoed in Clark’s head: _Do the only option that is necessary._ Slowly backing away from his own handiwork, Clark got himself on his feet. He stared at the lifeless body of the man who pulled out the worst of him. The last of the Hand of Rao was no more.

“Clark,” said Jonathan’s voice.

Clark turned his head immediately. Jonathan’s voice didn’t sound normal. It wasn’t a comforting proclamation of his son’s name. The voice was weak, with some undertones that indicated it was painful to even speak. When Clark faced his father, his face turned white until he felt nothing but cold emptiness that spread throughout his body.

Jonathan was on his side. He was still in the same position as he was when Zod’s beams were inching towards him. Martha was kneeling beside him and was holding a hand on her husband’s stomach. He was wincing and groaning.

Feeling even more chilled dread, Clark rushed to his father’s side. “Pa?”

Darting his eyes downward and shaken, Clark saw that Martha’s hand was coating a wet looking area that dampened beneath her pressured palm. Under her hand was a dark scarlet and ever so slowly expanded. Surrounding the area were blackened charred smudges of scorched fabric.

Clark began an endless silent cursing at himself. Even killing Zod wasn’t enough to stop his heat vision from getting too close. All of it in vain. “Pa,” he moaned.

Jonathan’s pained groans turned to deep breaths and exhales.

“Jonathan,” Martha said, her voice breaking. “Stay with me. Oh, God. . . Stay with me.”

“Clark,” he breathed in a raspy whisper.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” Clark said.

Clark kept his eyes on his father’s and trying his hardest to keep them away from the wounds. The work of a man who probably wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t gone home.

“Pa,” Clark said, “I . . .,” his words trailed. Getting out the truth was excruciating. “I left the city. He followed me so he’d find you.”

Jonathan tried lifting his body up to be closer to his son.

“Don’t move,” Martha advised.

Letting out a groan from the move, Jonathan placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “You had no way of knowing.”

Clark shook his head. Him having no clue that it would end this way was the truth, but his actions brought a consequence. “But it’s my fault,” he protested.

“Clark,” Jonathan forced out. That was more painful than the last movement.

Clark could feel the tears forming. His eyes burning with emotion and his throat swelling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Jonathan closed his eyes in pain. He let go of his neck and leaned it back only an inch. The amount of guilt he sensed in his son was overwhelming.

“I’m going to a better place. I’ll see you there soon, but that won’t be for a long time. You’ve got a full life ahead of you.” Relaxing himself a bit, he whispered, “I want you to promise me something.”

Clark blinked rapidly to fight the tears to eliminate any distractions from his father’s agony.

Jonathan was now more in a tiring state. Consciousness was slipping away, and he couldn’t hold on. Speaking slowly, he proceeded. “Promise me . . . that you’ll always be the better man. Always be the best. Like we did. For you.”

Clark simply nodded.

Feebly, Jonathan shakily rose a hand and tried to adjust his fingers. The suffering made it difficult. His hand formed into an open palm that softly pressed against the ‘S’ emblem on Clark’s chest.

In his fading condition, Jonathan managed to form a warm expression. “I love you, son. So much.”

“I love you too,” Clark responded.

Jonathan’s mouth began to shrink. His eyes blinked rapidly, losing everything surrounding him.

“No, no, no . . .” Clark silently repeated profusely in an agonizing mantra. Tears streamed down his face while his throat burned, making breathing more and more difficult.

Jonathan’s hand loosened and fell from Clark’s chest and landed on the earthly ground his fingers gently curling inwards with no nerves to manipulate them.

Martha placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and looked into her husband’s eyes one last time before they gradually shut themselves, never to open again.

A couple of seconds followed, and nothing came from Clark. He then opened his mouth that released no sound and sobbed softly while Martha joined, wrapping her arms around her grieving son.


	16. Chapter 16

The following days had been quiet. Going back to work at the _Daily Planet_ was too demanding than Clark anticipated. At least Perry was willing to give some people time off after the incident. It was understandable and it wasn’t the first time Perry had the heart to give people time to regain their composure after several occurrences whether it was personal or much bigger. Because of everything, Clark personally decided that it was best to stay awhile at his parents’ farm before heading back to Metropolis.

It had been one hell of a day. He started his first day working and trying to make a living in Metropolis. Life in the city was supposed to help shape any person’s future who wanted to work there, especially the _Daily Planet._ Saving a plane full of people was one thing, but the untimely arrival of criminal renegades who were not only from his home only made things worse.

And then, Jonathan’s funeral . . .

Clark felt absolutely numb throughout the entire service. He never bothered wiping the slow streams of tears. The Kents’ friends offered their condolences while they knew nothing of Jonathan’s true death. The cover story had been an accident, but that was best for now. The remembrance of seeing Jonathan’s grunts of anguish as his wound from Zod’s heat vision gushing never faded. It never changed despite that Jonathan was never related to him. Clark really did feel like his father died. He was a man who raised him with the best of his ability like any other. He was scared and deeply worried that his son would be denounced and feared.

The more Clark thought about the sacrifices from Jonathan, his mind then trailed to General Zod.

_Zod._

Clark cringed at the internal mention of the man who murdered his father, along with all those who were unlucky to not have made it out during the melee. Or was it really Zod that murdered him? Two deaths happened as a result of flying home scared, unwilling and impotent to compromise with a United States general, whom he promised to bring his daughter to safety. The threat was over, and he didn’t have anyone to answer. The only thing that brought was him killing another man. Or was it self-defense? He wished it felt like it. This man was anything else rather than an innocent man, but Clark couldn’t deny it was murder. This felt different than sending enemies into another world where there is no escape. Or was it worse than death? A world without time passing and possibly no way out. There was no telling.

Zod may have been dangerous, in addition to a well-intentioned extremist, though he was scared. There was no doubt that whatever did destroy Krypton had shaken him. Shook him hard enough to go over the edge by taking a whole planet by force. Clark recollected when Zod assessed Krypton’s annihilation. The misery in Zod’s eyes, how he described thousands of families butchered and then all were slaughtered in one instant. He lost his kind. _Their_ kind. And he had to stand and helplessly watch his wife being pulled away from him where the afterlife wouldn’t grant him access.

He didn’t deserve death.

Before Jonathan’s funeral, he decided to give Zod a formal remembrance. Despite his hostility and cruelty, he was once a man of principle that the House of El recognized. He wouldn’t be forgiven, but he wouldn’t be forgotten either. Clark’s Kryptonian legacy has been long remunerated with blessings of hope. This wouldn’t be the man that Jor and Lara-El would’ve wanted for their son. Neither the Kents. And not himself. Murder and totalitarianism may have been the House of Zod's legacy but not his.

Clark carried Zod’s corpse and took a sharp upward climb. He traveled so far until the Earth left him and the blackness of outer space surrounded him. All around him was nothing but quietness. Not a sound was heard, and the infinite quietness wouldn’t cease. Taking one look of dignity, he raised his arms that were no longer affected by gravity and Zod’s body ever so slowly moved away from him.

Dru-Zod’s closed eyes brought Clark peace as the last of the House of Zod drifted away from him as tiny specs of coldness began to appear on the bare skin of his face.

 _No more lives,_ _no more killing,_ Clark vowed to himself as he turned back around and dove downward back home.

* * *

Fighting in a war wasn’t exactly what Clark had in mind aside from being an example of decency like the House of El was known for. Not murder. Not death. No one was meant to be killed. This wasn’t supposed to be a warzone. Ursa's words still held a hard truth. This was a war, and wars have casualties.

He deeply yearned that a self-defensive circumstance wouldn’t rise again . . . Another life taken would destroy his soul.

Because of that, the entire world now believes that any kind of lifeform outside of Earth is perilous and aggressive. Even if that meant him. Every day, Clark couldn’t avoid the countless news channels that covered the story and—worst of all—fact that the entire planet just found out that there are aliens out there and they just tried to ravage all of mankind. The biggest topic was concerning the blue-suited alien. Many eyewitnesses have claimed to have seen him. Luckily, the Guardian pilot and crew did testify that the blue-suited alien did save their lives. Some kids who did watch the duels between him and the Kryptonians were overly amazed and excited to tell their stories.

At least there was that.

Unfortunately, the positives didn’t sway other people's opinions on Clark's intention of being heroic or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other stories entailed that they only saw him fight the aliens. Whether or not the blue-suited alien was unsafe to Earth as those he was combating, eyewitnesses have added that there were property damages and civilian casualties that were unlucky enough to cross their path.

Clark saw that St. Martin's Hospital was crowded shortly after the alien ship fell into the ocean. Hundreds were checked in for long-lasting injuries. There were several reports of immediate fatalities and those who unfortunately succumbed to their injuries. Clark tried to listen for the exact number of deaths reported, but the ache in his chest was too great and his numbness took over. It worsened when his haunted eyes detected shots of those who either were affected by the incident or those who suffered losses.

In addition, one of the more outspoken politicians about the subject, Senator Joseph Cray from Washington D.C. was given an interview. “We did not ask for this,” he said on camera. “This was an unspeakable act of violence that nobody asked for. Lives were ruined all because they were looking for someone else we didn’t ask for. What if there was someone else who wants him too? Or someone worse? Aliens are real, and we are now at the mercy of someone who's just like them. General Sam Lane was in contact with this alien, and General Lane complied with it. And wow, we’re—what— _teammates_ with it? How long before we are plunged into another war?”

Because of Senator Cray's statement, as well as other witnesses, public opinion on the blue-suited alien or the “flying man” was now mixed. Others think he’s some sort of savior, while others think he’s just as precarious as Zod and his cronies. Individual interviews have commonly stated that this “Kal-El” is a loose cannon, wondering how long it will be until he decides to mimic Zod’s motives.

Anger surged through Clark over this outrageous and groundless statement. The Senator wasn’t even there. Clark angrily found the power button to the TV.

He heard softly-paced footsteps and Martha entered the living room. She looked at her son with a deep despondent face. She had long recognized that kind of anger. The same kind since he found out who exactly he was. She steadily placed herself next to her aggravated son for the first time since the day he left for Metropolis, a life away from here.

Clark’s voice was calm, but Martha could sense that he wasn’t. “They don’t know what to think. _I_ don’t know what to think.”

“What they think,” Martha said calmly, “is irrelevant.”

“That’s _always_ been relevant, Mom,” Clark answered. “The idea of what my birth father stood for was to be the best for everyone. I wanted to do that, but that would also mean being alone. What I did today . . .,” He shook his head, releasing a sharp exhale. “What happened today . . . What I did . . . I’m more alone than ever before.”

Martha calmly slid her hand back and forth on her son’s shoulder. “Clark, you did the best you could, sweetheart. And I want you to let you know that Jonathan didn’t die because of you.”

“Then why do I feel like that?” Clark asked assertively.

“Clark, honey,” she said understanding her son’s grief. “Listen to me. Your father and I have loved you with all our lives. But remember what we’ve told you—once you’re out there, there’s nothing you can do. And there was nothing you could’ve done at that moment.”

Clark sighed deeply. “Then I’ve made a mistake. This was all a mistake. All of this. I’m the wrong person. Being someone to hold ideas and beliefs. I wanted to do what you and my birth parents stood for. To do the right thing. I thought I was ready to make these decisions. I had no idea that I would have to make these . . .,” his face tensed. “. . . these impossible choices.”

Clark’s throat swelled once more. He had mentally admitted it himself more times than he would ever bother counting but saying it out loud was unbearable. “I killed someone.”

“There was no other way,” Martha calmly reminded. “He was going to kill us.”

“He still didn’t deserve it, Ma,” he said solemnly. “He was scared and alone. Like me—”

“ _Don't_ ,” she interrupted. “Don’t compare him to you. You’re not like him, do you understand me? You did _not_ have a choice,” she said with emphasis. “Honey . . . I, in a million years, would not have blamed you any less for what happened to Jonathan.”

She was right. He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t. It didn’t even feel right leaving Metropolis for a few days, but he needed some form of comfort.

He ducked his head and took a deep breath. “I really miss him, Ma.”

Martha embraced her son tightly. “I miss him too.”

“After all these years of having no one . . . I thought I could change that when the time was ready. To not be alone anymore.” Shaking his head to himself, he ducked his head. “I was wrong.”

“Clark, listen to me,” Martha said more assertively. Her son turned his depressed face towards hers. “It’s not where you’re from that makes what your birth parents would want. It’s that you are capable of doing great things for other people, even if you weren’t born this way. You just have to realize what that means. And you won’t know what that means if you don’t take a step out there. We're all afraid of what's outside of what we call home. Until we take that first step that's outside of that precious barrier, we're all strangers. Sometimes, the best way to be recognized is to step out from the shadow and stand tall in the spotlight, unmoving long enough until they see you. The _real_ you. It's like what we told you long ago, Clark, the first step is always the hardest. And once you start that path, watch and see how far that spreads. From there, you’ll where you will go from there."

Clark slightly drifted his eyes away. He did remember those words long ago ever since he was a child. The first step was the hardest. It really _was_ the hardest. The decision to save the plane was reluctant, but it was the right thing to do, regardless of the inevitable repercussions of being discovered.

Clark opened his arms and let himself lean into Martha’s arms, holding him tight in an intimate embrace. He felt a melancholy smile form on his face. He hadn’t felt this comforted since the day he found the rocket in the barn and he was held.

“Some people said that they think you were amazing, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “And I do too. So did Jonathan. You did the best you could, sweetheart. You’ve just got to find a way to prove that you’re good. However long that takes.”

* * *

The next day, Clark carried Zod’s corpse out in the front yard. He made sure that Martha wasn’t there to see this. He wanted to face this and make this decision independently. Zod was a respected general in the past; he should have at least deserved something like this, even if corruption had polluted his principles into killing Jonathan. Zod’s body was placed with his arms and legs flatly at his sides and eyes forcibly shut for good.

Concentrating, Clark’s eyes burned, and a small flame latched itself onto Zod’s body and soon consumed him.

Later that day, Clark looked back at the ‘S’ symbol on his blue uniform. The uniform shimmered as much as it did when he first saw it. Its glistening still compensated for the diamond-shaped emblem on the front, still radiating in its bright red and yellow combination.

He remembered his birth father’s words . . .

_“No matter where you go, Kal-El, you will always carry our strength in you.”_

Jonathan’s last words . . .

“. . . _always be the better man. Always be the best you can be. Like we did_.”

The last survivor of Krypton and the last son of the House of El would have a savior for Earth. If he was going to be the better man, than this was going to require much more than being someone who can fly and lift a car with little to no effort. There will still those who believed that the alien called “Kal-El” was someone who came to help and stop anything bad from happening if he could.

He had to be exactly that. It also meant accepting the inevitability that actions have consequences. If the House of El brought hope, he had to try.

The memory of what he read in the museum in Metropolis then trailed. How those immigrants were treated for merely being outsiders. They also provided lifelong values for their foreign land, despite their differences.

According to Zod, Krypton had a mighty empire that ravished so many planets, who had nothing to do with anything. Krypton was tyrannical at a time before it settled in within itself.

Earth and Krypton had shady histories. Both were ridden with cruelty, but they had every opportunity to make themselves better. Krypton didn’t have a chance, but Earth still has one. Earth’s not a perfect world, and it probably never will be.

But it can be better.

He briefly contemplated on telling the whole world that he is the flying man. Though, that would be tough. For as long as he could remember, he was Clark Kent, a boy who grew up with dreams of being a reporter and now works at one of the country’s largest media corporations. At the same time, he was a descendant of a highly respected and noble family. He wanted a normal life, but the other life couldn’t be simply ignored. After all, only he had the power to stop a plane from falling. One can’t be without the other, he found.

He was both. A man of two worlds.

He did have one epiphany—maybe there was one way to display a remembrance. Some sort of monument aside from the items that came along the rocket he was in. He was fascinated with the ship Zod commandeered. Aside from the tiny rocket that he could no longer fit in unlike when he was an infant, that ship was the only piece of Krypton there was. And it was a large lost fragment.

When it was time for him to return to Metropolis, he donned his blue suit and soared back across the country. He flew out outside of the atmosphere to avoid any unready bystander’s attention.

As he reached his new hometown, he aimed right at the ocean side, right where Zod's ship had fallen into the obscure watery depths. Taking a breath, Clark dived below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. He was impressed by how unaffected his eyes were from the saltiness of the water. His vision was never impaired, save for the darkness that grew as he descended further away from the sunlight.

Flexing his eyes, he viewed all around via x-ray vision. Everything was much lighter, and he did make out several canyons of coral. Anticipating seconds followed, and he picked up one large object several kilometers away at that point. At the ocean floor was Zod's ship. Its hull was still unscathed, and its exterior shell had barely noticeable signs of wear or combat. It was perfectly intact, almost as if the ship served as a submarine.

Ready for more air, Clark skyrocketed back to the surface before taking another deep breath. Returning to where he found it, he steered himself right where the ship met the sandy floor and crouched. Luckily, it was easy to squeeze himself and make a space between the floor and the hull. After enough space, Clark raised both arms and pressed his palms up against the still cold metal of the hull.

Flexing himself, Clark then launched himself upward as fast as he could. He was thankful that his lungs weren’t failing him, and it was only a ten-second period before he broke the ocean ceiling and returned to Metropolis’ sunny greeting.

With his breath restored and no innocent bystanders present, Clark moved himself away from the city and continued further out into the Atlantic with the ship held above him. Wherever he wanted to keep this, it had to be as far away from anything and everything as possible. Anywhere near or within a civilized continent was the first idea that he thought of. For something this big and obvious, it was too risky to place it somewhere in the deep in the mountains or a barren open area. The only possible location he had in mind was the northern arctic region. Maybe the North Pole, where inhabitation was unlikely.

 _So, now I’m Santa Claus,_ Clark silently tittered to himself.

Fortunately, the trip to the arctic wasn’t as long as it took for him to soar across the country from Smallville to Metropolis. The air got colder and foggier. The Kryptonian suit reacted accordingly. Instead of feeling the climate’s air, the suit provided a warming defense that covered everywhere, save for his head and hands, still clutching the hull. The unrelenting grasp gave him all the strength he needed to fight the Arctic’s depressing temperature. He needed to find a place that was isolated and buried behind massive glaciers or mountains that would act as a cover. Anything to keep it hidden from human eyes.

A couple of seconds followed, and exactly what he was looking for began to appear. The fog eclipsed the landscape, but Clark’s vision wasn’t entirely impaired. He could make out that there was a series of glaciers that stretched out from overhead rock formations.

Clark ascended from the frigid waters and soared overhead to where he could look down and observe the entire landscape.

Indeed, there was a circular pattern of ice and rocks mixed together, almost as if it was imitating Stone Hedge. Right in the middle was a massive depression. Within the pit-like vicinity was nothing but hard ice that rested perfectly within its cold crib. By the radius of the pit, the ship would be an almost perfect fit. The radius seemed slightly bigger than the ship's by Clark’s aerial calculation.

Ready to relieve the load above him, Clark dropped altitude while easing the ship into its designated location. The ship sang scraping noises along the sides of the icy rocks, but its nigh impenetrable armor was left unaffected. The only form of damage it suffered was Clark's escape when Zod captured him.

A couple of painstaking seconds followed, and Clark touched down. Clark carefully moved himself while shifting his palms along the hull until he was on one edge of the ship. Crouching, Clark lowered the ship, which softly crunched the ground beneath it. There was plenty of space between the front entrance of the ship and the interior of the pit. Clark proceeded to face the front of the ship once more and decided to have another look inside, albeit his own accord. No fear of fanatics who control it. The ship was now his to look back on and glorify that his heritage had a vast reputation of accomplishment. He then thought about placing the emergency shuttle his parents found him in somewhere onboard as well as some of the artifacts that were found in it.

Clark entered the ship and the awe he felt earlier struck him again. It was more free and more soothing. The icy coldness he felt on his hands and face vanished as the ship’s doors closed around him, sealing him into the familiar blue lit crystal walls. The vessel was without power. It was a matter of time before the temperature outside would make its way in. Unless there was a way to activate the ship in some way. It would be wise to be careful with the phantom engine, however . . . Maybe toggle with the controls in the large room where Zod commandeered his group.

He made his way to the main control room and felt uneasy. It was almost depressing to see that all the lights from the technologically advanced consoles illuminated the room.

He recalled that those consoles did give trivial and important information about many things. In addition to planetary specifics, they might also have more documentation about Krypton—its entire history. Though, they were all detailed in a Kryptonian language that he had no idea how to decipher. Would it be possible to learn how to read a Kryptonian language? The Hand of Rao already learned how to speak it flawlessly.

The possibilities dazzled, but another epiphany crossed his consciousness. He may have safely placed a ship—his ship, though, he still needed to find a way to show the public that he was as modest as Martha encouraged him to be.

That led to another idea.

Lois.

He recalled when she told him that she was still looking for a story that would mean something good. Something that would make a long great impression and not another column-on-the-side-tabloid scandal story. Plus, the _Daily Planet_ was looking for him too. Anything to get an interview.

Using his own phone would be too risky. He’d have to make a more drastic approach such as the Kents’ house phone. He copied Lois’ number and dialed. Martha promised not to listen in on the conversation; Clark made looks every time she had a curious look. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was assuming that he may have liked her.

“Yellow?” came the deadpan voice that made Clark smile.

“Hello, Ms. Lane,” Clark spoke in an assured voice.

“Wayne, if that’s you again, I swear to God, I’m gonna shove my foot up your—.”

“No, no, no,” Clark stammered. “It’s me.”

“Who?”

Silently clearing his throat, Clark said, “it’s me, Kal-El.”

“Wait, what?” Well, _that_ got her attention. “How’d you get my number?”

“Someone I know,” he answered sincerely.

“You got it from Clark?”

“Yes.”

Lois chuckled. “You know, you really pissed off my dad.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Why are you calling?” she asked curiously.

“A friend told me that you’ve been looking for something. Something great to write about in the paper.”

Lois bolted up from her seat. An interview? With an alien? “Yeah?” Lois said enthusiastically caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, sure. Sure. I’d like that.” An interview that wouldn’t just push her career, but also give something the people of Metropolis to finally read something positive for a change. A break from stories about the City Hall would be nice.

“Alright then,” Clark discreetly beamed. “Rooftop of that building where you are—oh, what was it called. . .”

“ _Daily Planet.”_

“Daily Planet. Yes,” Clark faked. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow at three o’clock. Oh, and come alone.”

“You got it.”

Clark pressed the end call button and let out a loud relieved exhale. At long last, something was working out.

He glanced behind him and noticed that Martha was sticking her head out from the kitchen doorway. Clark’s face flushed. How long was she staring there? She better not get the wrong idea—

Martha nodded suggestively and winked while clicking her tongue.

Her son rolled his eyes.

* * *

Lois wasn’t planning on waiting for another five minutes. It was a wonder if this guy was even an on-time guy, like right at three o’clock on the dot and not some minor leeway. Anticipation pumped her heart quicker. Same spot. How interesting. The first place she saw him too.

She looked at her watch. 2:59. If only she had the power of grabbing someone and pulling towards her and not have to wait. At the same time, it would be entirely reckless; you wouldn’t want to mess with someone who could lift a car and even a friggin’ spaceship.

3:00.

Lois’ attention at the sky heightened. Alright, where is he?

“Good afternoon, Lois.”

Letting out a surprised cry, she turned around to see that he was only five feet away from her. _Really?_ That close? Couldn’t have given off a little warning?

Clark flushed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Jesus!” Lois exhaled.

“Sorry,” Clark said. “I had to sneak up here. Technically speaking, I’m still an unknown.”

Oh. Well, that did make sense. Her dad did keep calling her, wondering if she had seen him. Now that she was about to publish this, things were about to get _really_ interesting. Hopefully, he’ll finally get off his high ground and read something she wrote for once.

Lois released a slight chuckle. “Right,” she said, biting her lip. “So . . .” her voice trailed while she reached for her pen and opened up a fresh new page on her notepad. She had no idea where to start. Here he was, and all those years of knowing which questions to start with completely gone in an instant.

Clark tilted his head. Hopefully, this wasn’t too overwhelming.

Lois delayed an awkward laugh. “I have so many questions. I don’t know where to begin.”

Clark grinned. “It’s alright. Asked myself the exact same thing. Take your time.”

Calculating her sentence, she said steadily, “Where are you from?”

“I’m from a faraway planet. I don’t know exactly know how far away though. My birth name is Kal-El. I’m a descendant of a well-known family from a faraway world. I’m the last survivor of a planet that was destroyed. It was called Krypton.”

Lois scribbled on her notepad. Krypton. . . C-R-I . . . No, this was way too important to screw up. “‘Krypton’—how do you spell that?”

Clark paused. That was a good question. Only the pronunciation was known. He supposed he could make up something. Who knew the English spelling of that anyway?

“K-R-Y-P-T-O-N,” he said as if he knew all along.

“Alright,” she fathomed writing more. “And, you’re, like, completely impervious to pain?”

“Not entirely,” he answered. “I get tired, sure. But I do get some fatigue. There’s also some kind of material on that ship that lowered by endurance.”

More scribbling. She might as well be writing a science fiction story. “And, uh, how big are you?” She loudly cleared her throat. “I mean, how tall are you?”

“Six foot three.”

“So . . .” Lois bit her lip. Dodged _that_ one. “Why are you here?”

Clark swallowed to hide having to clear his throat out loud. He gently lowered his head and morphed his confident expression to a calculating pensiveness.

“That's one question I've been asking myself for so many years. But now I do know. All I’m here to do is help. I was raised by a mother and father who told me that sometimes there isn’t an easy way to be immediately accepted. And even if I’m not, then they can be sure that there is someone to watch over them, or better yet—to do the right thing. When I found out what I was capable of, I knew that one day, I had to reveal myself to the world when it really needed me. I was afraid of being discovered and outcasted. It’s okay to be afraid, but if you let that fear take you, you’ll never have the real power of doing the right thing. Even if no one is there by you, no one is willing or caring to look your way, you can’t let that stop you from doing what’s right.”

Lois’ concentrated writing on her notepad turned to a deep thoughtful demeanor. When she was done, she then smirked spiritedly. “Did you memorize all that before you came here?”

Clark lightly chortled. “Well, it’s the truth.”

Lois gave an understanding nod, scribbling down like mad. “Well, honesty’s the best policy. But. . .,” her words got lost among her scribbling. “It’s still a good speech. Right. Uh, sorry. Alright then. So,” she cleared her throat. “Suppose the military doesn’t want you hanging around. They were after you, and you ran away. Now, they’re declaring you a danger or a threat, and you say that you want to do the right thing. What do you have to say about that?”

Clark displayed a look of deep pensiveness. There really wasn’t a reassuring answer for that question or himself. He ran away instead of facing up to what he did. Eventually, he’d have to own up to what happened that day.

“I ran,” he conceded. “I ran because I was scared. But now. . . I’ll have to one day come to terms with my actions. Until then, I can’t let whatever is out there do it again. Besides, your father won’t listen to a word I say now that I’m still hanging around.

“Oh, please,” Lois scoffed. “I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. Besides, some think you’re pretty awesome.”

“Yeah?”

“Dude,” Lois said while pulling out her phone that immediately displayed a YouTube video.

The video depicted a young boy who looked about ten or eleven.

“. . . and then this blue guy flies in,” the boy described excitedly, “and smashes into that other guy. The other guy tries to beat the blue guy, but the blue guy just goes—” he made a sound that imitated lasers while gesturing with his hands to imitate the heat vision. He then gestured a loud punching sound. “It was like _Dragon Ball Z!”_

Clark shielded his bashfulness with a feeble burying palm, unable to keep a straight face.

With a smirk, Lois put her phone away. “Looks like you’ve got some fans.”

Clark chuckled warmly. At least there were in fact some that caught on to his heroics—some that even thought it was awesome. “Glad to know,” he replied. “What about you? You a fan?”

Lois made a face. “Yeah, you kidding me? You saved my ass, like . . . twice? I lost count, man. . .”

Clark laughed. “Well, you’re welcome.”

“Don’t mention it. And that . . .,” she pointed at him. “That, uh, is that a suit from your planet?”

“It’s a Kryptonian suit that was passed down by my family.”

“Is it, like, uh. . . powerful or something? Do you know what it’s made of?”

“You know, I’m not even sure,” he answered truthfully. “It was one of the things that were recovered from Krypton, and I managed to hold onto it.”

“Huh. . .” Her eyes shifted to his chest and scrutinized the emblem. “What does that ‘S’ stand for?” she asked.

“Oh, this,” Clark noticed. “It’s, uh,” he chuckled. “Actually, it’s not an ‘S’. It looks like one though. Well, actually, it’s a symbol of my family crest. It stands for the House of El.”

The corner of her mouth stretched. “Shouldn’t it be an _‘L’_ then?”

Clark smiled. “Yeah, probably. But it is what it is.”

Lois then gave another kind of smile that indicated she was thinking of something.

Clark caught onto it. “What?”

“Since it looks like an ‘S’ on planet Earth,” she said calculatingly, “I think I know what we can call you.”

She was smirking, but Clark could read that this wasn’t the usual smirk she’d make when being sardonic. This was the face of being onto something creative, and that was enough to make Clark smile warmly.


	17. Epilogue

Perry took his time reading. He didn’t take his eyes off the paper. It was a good read, no doubt. As always, the time had to be taken for having to correct all those spelling errors that Lois never bothered fixing to begin with. On the other hand, this was one for the books.

Lois had her head back, legs crossed, and arms folded, deeply prideful of her handiwork. She had a vast smile on her face. She had been wearing that smile for almost five straight minutes.

The article titled, “The Superman” had countless paragraphs about where Kal-El came from, why he’s here and what he wants out of humanity. It was impressive already that Lois Lane, of all people, was able to get an interview that was so personal and so articulate out of someone like him. From what he was informed, the alien just _called her and gave her permission to be interviewed._ No one like that would like to be questioned about anything. Then again, it's a man from another world. Anything can happen.

“‘Superman’, huh?” Perry asked. The name sounded blunt, but it did make sense, considering the ‘S' emblem, which meant . . . “L"?

Lois could tell that he didn’t really care about the name as much as that someone in his office actually got the story that he had been unknowingly searching for since he could actually remember. She only answered with a shrug that indicated what he thought about the whole thing.

“Not bad,” he said smiling.

Lois couldn’t help but flash a grin. It did feel great to be complimented on something aside from being lectured about not doing what she usually did best.

“So, he said his planet—or _their_ planet is gone?” Perry asked.

“So, he says,” Lois replied.

Perry grunted in understanding. Whatever the hell this guy’s backstory was, the only thing that mattered was his actions. “Well, I think the word ‘Superman’ will be a nice little comfort after everything. The fact that he said that he was the same guy who saved the _Constitution_ and aircraft the other day should make people feel better.”

“Or better yet,” Lois said in her usual voice, though struggling to contain her delight, “they’ll be reading that it came from us.”

Perry couldn’t keep the mutual emotion reach him. “Yeah, yeah, you did good. Keep it up.”

“Will do,” she said in feigned sweetness.

“And I agree,” Perry continued, dropping the excitement for a more professional tone. “This is definitely a front-pager. We’re the luckiest sons of bitches in the world that a story like this came from us.”

Lois let out a chuckle. “See, Perry? Face it, you need me.”

Perry let out a glare. He could’ve just fired her like all those other times he should have. But he knew that she was right. Like always. “Watch it,” he said.

Lois returned a gesture that indicated that she knew to stand down and obliged.

Perry cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I heard you were heading to Gotham on your ‘time off’.”

Lois made a face. So much for vacation time. Not that it was necessarily meant to be a vacation. Though, time away from Metropolis no matter the exact circumstances were considered a vacation by anyone who worked at the _Daily Planet._ “Alright, you caught me.”

“Still chasing that urban legend?”

“I think it’s more than a legend,” she said. “Eight sightings in only a month. That’s something. I already got you the—what’d you call it—the story of the century. So, why not give that a rest while I do a little snooping around before the _Gotham Gazette_ gets their hands on it.”

Perry released a small breath. “You know, every time you do this and go around behind my back, you deliver the best results in the stupidest way possible.”

Lois’ answer was an overconfident smirk. The face of the woman that doesn’t know when to quit.

“Fine,” Perry conceded. “Just don’t get mugged.”

Lois removed herself from her seat and headed out the door and back to the main floor. “I’ll let you know when I find out more about this vigilante.”

* * *

**COMING SOON...  
**Batman: The First Night


End file.
